"A sail?" said McClintock. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. ' That's your signal. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture.
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