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Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. You denied it at the time—but unfortunately I have proof. ’ ‘I’m hanged if I can make out either of you,’ complained Hilary. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. I never saw a man who wasn't. “Mr. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress.
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