" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. He found his youngest daughter intrusive in his thoughts all through the morning, and still more so in the afternoon. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. He suckled at her shoulder blade as he slid her panties down.
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