She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. ’ He believes that she denies it simply because owing to my marriage with Sir John, whom they call the ‘Puritan Knight,’ she wants to keep her identity secret. White.
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