“Please forgive me. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. “Thought so. 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. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. I don’t know. There's a hundred pounds too much. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested.
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