You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. They were actually pissed at me that I quote broke up with you unquote. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences.
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