Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. But a total stranger, a man you never saw twentyfour hours ago! It can't be thought of. Like a trollop in heat. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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