"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Balked, Melusine halted. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. She was quite unconcerned. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt.
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