Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and half-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. ‘Must be still downstairs. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest.
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