I’ve wanted you—always. Your fingers are even now as stiff as a schoolgirl’s. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. . She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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