"I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. ’ ‘It is you who will get the head blown off,’ threatened the young lady fiercely. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. 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. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy.
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