To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. She paused for a moment. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. Herculis was a port city on the Tyrrhenian Sea not far from where the manor had been. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
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