Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. “Act three. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. Forgive me.
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