She acted as her mother had taught her to. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience.
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