She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. He reached for her, and she struck savagely. ‘Must be still downstairs. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. Spurling.
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