He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. . No mercenary consideration influences me. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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