‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. Today you shall promise me that you will pull no more of these stunts.
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