I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. She was shifting, moving back. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. \" She said.
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