He begged their attention for the next turn. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist.
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