"I'm your dupe no longer. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier.
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