Sheppard. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. “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. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response.
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