Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. "Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. “You may not leave. ” “But is that really so?” said Ann Veronica. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure.
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