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‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. “There is no time for that. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer.
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