‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. You know—I worship you. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. This way, Sir Rowland. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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