The prisoner breathed with difficulty. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. I’ve had it, Sheila. They would be partners only in loneliness. I don’t care WHAT happens.
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