‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. Wood's house was broken into and plundered. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table.
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