Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. I have no right to love you. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury.
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