“I do love you. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. Practically all. Annabel entered. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. ‘Now then, girl.
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