He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. The first peg was torture. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. We went our ways. E.
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