I’m a soldier, you see. We’ll have some buttered toast. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers.
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