His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. His vicious abusiveness vanished. " "Mr. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie.
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