"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. No, none at all. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. She rode him gently. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. I'll go alone. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted.
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