Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. By the side of her plate was a small key. "You are all right?"—anxiously. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. More than half the city perished.
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