When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Fritz and Anna had been her wards for over two years! Sebastian stood in the corner, laughing silently at the fighting women. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic.
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