“No. Do you accept it?" "Dear Thames!" "Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love. Critically, she stared at her own features. Acknowledge your faults. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. “You shall go,” he declared. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is.
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