You do not make me afraid like this. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. Never mind.
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