With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. E. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor.
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