"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. ” She spoke rather quickly, because she found her father’s question the most awkward she had ever had to answer in her life. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner.
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