And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. ‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively.
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