The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. Smith's melody had subsided. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. She rode him gently. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck.
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