“I will tell you the truth. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. And now she insisted that she MUST leave the chastened security of the Tredgold Women’s College for Russell’s unbridled classes, and wanted to go to fancy dress dances in pirate costume and spend the residue of the night with Widgett’s ramshackle girls in some indescribable hotel in Soho! He had done his best not to think about her at all, but the situation and his sister had become altogether too urgent. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. She moaned as she touched him.
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