He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. No; I’m going to stick to the rules. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark.
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