She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. "His shin may need rubbing. You shall know the truth.
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