But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. "Your son," answered the boy. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. ’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. .
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