She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. We made sure it was just like Gwen.
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