Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion.
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