She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. ‘I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Ramage,” she said, clinging to her one point, “I want to get out of this horrible little room. ‘Oh, have you? Well, in that case, I love your little booted feet, and your ridiculously long eyelashes, and—’ THANK YOU! Thank you so much for downloading and reading my book. Satisfied that he had solved his difficulty, he proceeded to his room. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. Wait a moment.
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