\" \"No, but can you carry my lunch bag? Where is yours?\" Michelle asked. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. This is not what I want. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques.
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