She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. ” “I don’t want absolution. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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