" "Here!" ejaculated Wood, with a look of alarm. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. She bent down. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No.
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