The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. " A peculiar smile illuminated Jack's features. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. She looked in the rear-view mirror.
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