“David Courtlaw!” she repeated. She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. “This is a very foolish sort of entertainment. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest.
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