“Do you believe me now?” She asked. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. ‘But he must have—’ ‘Nicholas Charvill never did anything he must do,’ Mrs Sindlesham said evenly. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh.
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