He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. He moaned in excitement as his lips wrapped around the peak of her right breast. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. " "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly.
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