“It’s what killed the Carthusian monks.”“They were poisoned?”“By the ink,” Maddie confirmed. “The final two pages of the manuscript sh...w an increase in the level of cyanide in the ink.”“The monks copying manuscripts would ingest small amounts of ink each day as they touched their pens to their tongues when they wrote,” Keith said, reconstructing the scenario in his mind. He shuddered. “That sounds like a long slow death.”“The catalog also records the receipt of supplies for the scriptorium,”. I was also fully drenched in oil so I took some oil and applied some oil on mine chest and started rubbing mine chest over her ass it was amazing slipping over one another. The same way I massaged her boobs. Aunty was smiling and ordering me to do like this like that and I Was obeying her.IT was one of the best feelings I was massaging not by hand by my chest. I wanted to make her feel more I don’t know from where I got this idea. I moved to the kitchen took the honey and poured on her navel. All he could think of was the grip Doylehad on him. The grip Doyle had on this woman. This girl. Him.The hand on Art's face was a shock. His head was pushed back towardsDoyle's over his shoulder. Their lips met. Art could feel the slicksurface of the gloss spread out between the two mouths. Their lips slidback and forth, pulled left and right by Doyle. Art barely kissed back.This was, after all, his first kiss. He hadn't practiced. This wasn't howhe had pictured it. Part of him wanted to. On that night, Barbara tucked her into bed and instead of the nursery rhyme they usually shared, Barbara told her a story of a pretty princess who was rescued from peril by a strong young man. “Someday, a nice young man will ask you to be with him, too, and you’ll live happily ever after, just like in the story.” Victoria fell asleep with thoughts of the princess and the young man. The next day, Victoria told her aunt about the story, and Elizabeth frowned. “You shouldn’t listen to such.