Surely he was imagining this picture. " "Let me go," implored Mrs. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames.
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