The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. He awoke, strangely content. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is.
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