Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. . Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her.
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