She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. "Will you plead?" demanded Wild, harshly. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Spare him! spare him!" "On one condition I will spare him," returned Wild; "on one condition only.
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