But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. I worshipped her and subdued myself. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it.
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