CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT
Part 1
Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and
summer came with a rush together. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous
professionalism creeping into her voice. On the cords being removed, he made a
desperate spring at Wild, bore him to the ground, clutched at his throat, and
would, infallibly, have strangled him, if the keepers had not all thrown
themselves upon him, and by main force torn him off. She
moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing
against her panties under her skirt. "Got the rooms mixed.
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