He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. He whispered in her ear. Mr. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. There was a black fear in his heart. He did not quarrel with Rowland's profusion, for his own revenues were ample; but he did object to the large sums lavished by him in the service of a faction he was resolved not to support. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said.
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