” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. “A girl needs her mother most exactly when she thinks she doesn’t. She’s taken my sword. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. ” She shifted again. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. . She loved him. ’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie.
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