He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. Her belly was being touched, she felt her thighs caressed softly. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage.
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