” His eyes were burning. ’ ‘She again?’ enquired his hostess, her delicate brows rising ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. You seem to want this chap out of Canton. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly.
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