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You don't notice the heat; but it is always there, pressing down. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. “Your friend, “DAVID COURTLAW.
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