There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. I'll keep it for your sake. Sheppard. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. Annabel entered. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention.
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