While they were thus occupied, a maid-servant entered the room, and stated that a person was without who had a packet for Captain Darrell, which must be delivered into his own hands. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final.
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