His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. "I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. ‘Possibly,’ he said.
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