Perhaps the doctor, the manager and the girl were in collusion: perhaps they had heard indirectly of the visit paid by Mr. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. Certainly your major—’ ‘Ah, now that’s just it, missie.
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