He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other.
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