Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. ’ She spread her hands. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. If I let you believe I did not love you, and they found me, your shame would be negligible.
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