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‘Oh, peste. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. Here one might live the life of golden days.
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