’ For the first time since she had heard the news, Mrs Sindlesham’s features relaxed and a tiny smile appeared. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest.
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