She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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