One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. Vorsack echoed him. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise.
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