“Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. ” He shook her diminutive hand. "My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you.
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