He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. They began the evening like usual, driving down highways and byways. This was his humiliation as well as hers. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. There was a lot of that, John, a great deal of hunger. He jumps the words out of your mouth; he takes hold of what you have to say before you have had time to express it properly. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. It fits your style. 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.
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