She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are.
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