Jean hesitated, the import of his wife’s words sinking in.“You are with child?” Jean asked, sounding shocked.Marguerite nodded. “I am, and I k...ow it is a boy.”“I see. How do you know it is mine?” Jean asked bitterly. “How do you know it is not Le Gris’ bastard in your belly?”“I am too far along for it to be his,” Marguerite explained. “You don’t remember? The night before you left for Paris, you had me. You were exhausted and sick, but I used my mouth on you until you were ready, then I sat on. A defensive reflex, I guess. Their legs are extraordinarily powerful, believe me. I’ve seen tougher men than you falling to the ground like they had been shot. –- She cannot reach me. –- Why do you think we hobble them?- he snickered, while he tauntingly poked his finger in her bound breast. – Jokes apart, Eggy is a good pony, isn’it? She’d never kick our guest, wouldn’t she? -The girl didn’t seem to appreciate the attention so much, as she started groaning and grunting in pain. Heckert. More

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