It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. ‘I do not believe you. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony.
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