Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak.
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