’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. ‘Oh, peste. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough.
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