She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Sheppard. He guided himself between her legs. She hesitated. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. The young lady saw the change, and almost snorted. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. "'It was all perfectly legal? "My word for it. He kissed her cheek.
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