Cran, Marion, 1879-1942 · London, H. Jenkins · leaf 261
er for hours,devouring every whisker on her lovely high-bredface with passionate eyes. He would lick her facewith his little rough tongue, and then sit up like asquirrel, boxing her with his paws, as much asto say : Turn your face this way, now that way. Is itpossible anything living can be so fair… … He espied the coquette smirking among the bushes. Chap. XIII.
Gardens and gardening
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