" There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. ‘You can’t go to England. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. This is something above all rules. "I alone am to blame. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile.
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