John’s best friend’s parents were to be out of town again, he reported. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud.
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