Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. She pulled away from him, placing her fingers on his lips for a moment. Think better of it. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished.
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