Now came the difficulty, and oh! for a seraph's tongue, and a seraph's powers of representation! But there was no seraph at hand, only the soft running waters singing a quiet tune, and predisposing Miss Benson to listen with a soothed spirit to any tale, not immediately involving her brother's welfare, which had been the cause of her seeing that lovely vale. prostate tickler
"It is an awkward story to tell, Faith, but there is a young woman lying ill at my lodgings whom I wanted you to nurse."
He thought he saw a shadow on his sister's face, and detected a slight change in her voice as she spoke. pulsating vibrator
"Nothing very romantic, I hope, Thurstan. Remember, I cannot stand much romance; I always distrust it." male anal toy
"I don't know what you mean by romance. The story is real enough, and not out of the common way, I'm afraid."
He paused; he did not get over the difficulty.
"Well, tell it me at once, Thurstan. I am afraid you have let some one, or perhaps only your own imagination, impose upon you; but don't try my patience too much; you know I've no great stock."
"Then I'll tell you. The young girl was brought to the inn here by a gentleman, who has left her; she is very ill, and has no one to see after her."
Miss Benson had some masculine tricks, and one was whistling a long, low whistle when surprised or displeased. She had often found it a useful vent for feelings, and she whistled now. Her brother would rather she had spoken.
"Have you sent for her friends?" she asked, at last.