His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. I’m not discussing Shakespeare. You said that it would bring trouble. “Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what had happened?” he asked.
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