But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. 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. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this.
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