She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. "Did you write it?" "No. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place.
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