She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. You'd better lose no time. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name. .
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