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Page 143
"He does not like people to touch me," Joanna gasped, lying fluently. Brian had reacted to her own stiffening of revulsion. He never growled when Geoffrey embraced her.
"Be still, Brian. Lie down."
The words seemed an open invitation, but Braybrook did not notice that Joanna had surreptitiously tugged the leash so that, when Brian obeyed, the dog collapsed directly between them. That was a nuisance, but he did not dare disrupt the mood still further by telling her to move the creature.
"My rose," he said softly, "you are such that a man must cherish you, not come drunken into your presence and refuse you your rightful pleasure in so small a thing as dancing."
By now the whole thing had become so ridiculous that Joanna felt a sense of unreality. Besides, he was such an ass, he deserved to wear long ears. It was as if she and Braybrook were players acting parts in one of those risible farces of stupid husband, sly lover, and unfaithful wife. Joanna fluttered her eyelashes.
"My pleasure must be what pleases my husband," she sighed.
"No, no," Sir Henry contradicted softly. "That is too much goodness. Then you are a slave. A woman has also a right to be happy, and it is her husband's duty to please her in such things as dancing and dress and using her with honor before others. When a husband fails in such matters, he has lost the right to his wife's loyalty."
"Oh, do you think so?" Joanna asked dulcetly, looking aside.
"Of a surety, my love. When such a prize as you, a very sun that lights the world with beauty is despised, the warm rays must be cast outward. They must illuminate a heart more ready to receive them."
Again Joanna choked. Sir Henry was much more romantic than Geoffrey. Geoffrey had called her torch-head a few times, but that was not meant as a compliment. That made the conversation between Braybrook and herself even more unreal to Joanna. She must tell Geoffrey, she thought, that

 
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