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He always followed by showering her with kisses, embracing her tightly as she squirmed and giggled. ’ He sighed, spread his hands quite in her own manner, and fluttered his lashes. You’re of age— you’re of age. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view.
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