“Lord!” she said. It was so hopeless to put it to them. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. Sonunda, grup, Kaderin Anahtarları'nı ele geçirdi.
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