Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. He's the only native I trust in these parts. But the twins were so fucked over at that point they were zombies. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. At last—I told a story. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade.
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