‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. ’ His friend held it out of the way.
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