Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. The latter request, though treated with supreme contempt by Mr. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. ‘But a spy I am not. Wood. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. ‘It is not easy.
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