CHAPTER XXVIII. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. “I would give my life for you.
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