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... a full minute. Her heart was not just beating; it was rearing, like a frightened horse.
This is foolery, she thought. Utter, complete, certifiable foolery. I am walking through my brother’s house, in the dead of night, wearing a nightgown that is little more than colored air, to meet a man. A man who is not my husband. A guest in this house.
The house was a sleeping giant. The clock in the downstairs hall had chimed midnight ten minutes ago, each stroke a hammer blow against her ...
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