Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. “No! I want to do without that.
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