She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. Mr. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. ” John peered at her as she went to him. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. “And this is Mr. Stanley. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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