After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. ‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade.
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