" "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling.
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