She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. A sob was strangled in her throat. Lucy simply added her own good night, even though a significant part of her wanted to call Cathy mother, she refrained. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls.
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