She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. I have no right to love you. I'm sure he'll do his best to content you. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse.
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