‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. Humph. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. Well, I don't blame you on that ground. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear.
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