Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. Diable. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice.
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