Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. He let go of the girl’s arm. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Wood, then, beheld two persons, one of whom he recognised as Rowland, spring on board the chase. Not us. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. "Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered. The mode of destruction makes no difference. I have very few friends in Paris. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt.
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