I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. He pulled down a chair to her left. He divorced her. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. He never felt any need to explain himself. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it.
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