And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. It is better that you go away now, I think. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. Their lovemaking became a whole new realm for her as he was experienced as he was subtle.
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