” “Any one could see that the girls were ladies,” Ennison murmured. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. 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. Disperse in every direction.
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