‘I want a word with you, my lad. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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