Not entirely. Once in England, she made all haste to visit Remenham House. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. His body went limp, and as he withdrew she ironically found herself at the doorway for the first time in her life of being truly aroused. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt.
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