One night she apparently fell asleep. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. “This is not a matter altogether for levity, Anna,” she said. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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