Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. ‘Is it soft, the way you seize me from behind? Parbleu, my heart it is flown from my chest! Boom, boom, it goes, even now. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad.
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