His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. She was making it up. She continued to fan herself. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. The elements were wrathful as their passions.
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