" "Mr. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. ’ He quirked an eyebrow. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself.
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