Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. Her heart thudded. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. “My Mom was a good lady.
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