She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. " "But, mother, mayn't I sit up to see whether Thames returns?" implored Winifred. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. I didn't understand then, but I do now. Quilt was not long in following his example.
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