She took the initiative and guided his fingers inside her and bore down. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy.
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