Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. . After class his routine was unchanged. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. " "I promise to ask no more.
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