” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. ‘Yes, miss. Sections and pages had been pasted together, and all through both Testaments a word had been blotted out. Yes—as he would have liked. Of course. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced.
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