" "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. ” She gestured to an abandoned farmhouse down a long stretch of icy dirt road. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together.
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