The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. "Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. "Do you submit?" interrogated Wild. For the sort of love-making you think about.
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