We’ll make short work of them. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. Has your ladyship any further commands?" "None whatever. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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