” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Stanley, and went into his study. He was snoring stupidly. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly.
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