She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. She took the initiative and guided his fingers inside her and bore down. Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. There’s no logic in these things.
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