Escape was now impossible. Sheppard let fall her basket. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. "I had to give in to him.
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