Like a trollop in heat. As this had been Mrs. . ’ His friend held it out of the way. ’ She grimaced. “I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers.
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