‘I live in Kent. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. The latter began to heave himself up from the sand. " "That I'll engage not to do.
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