Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. His hot juices coursed into her in quick bursts. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. “Anna!” she repeated.
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