Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. There you are! Girl spoilt for life.
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