The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his.
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