Mischief bubbled up in her. A hansom stopped a little way off. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face.
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