Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Prudence. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. A door in this house opened upon the yard. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous.
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