She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. ‘She wants you. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. She rolled to one side. .
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