” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. Hill, I hope you won’t find everything cold. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. Her patience was waning fast. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. .
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