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2020-08-07 18:31:39  Դձ
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appַ̰:a g 9 559 v i p

The man faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick little gesture, a soldier!

app̰ƣ廭

Constance strode nearer, with blazing eyes. The man turned and looked at her, saluting coolly, but he was pale with anger.

Hilda posted off to Dr Shardlow, and on the following Sunday Mrs Bolton drove up in Leiver's cab to Wragby with two trunks. Hilda had talks with her; Mrs Bolton was ready at any moment to talk. And she seemed so young! The way the passion would flush in her rather pale cheek. She was forty-seven.

`And do you like it?'

app̰ƣ ɻ

`Just as much out of air and sunshine,' he said.<`I'll come to you,' she said.

She looked in the other mirror's reflection at her back, her waist, her loins. She was getting thinner, but to her it was not becoming. The crumple of her waist at the back, as she bent back to look, was a little weary; and it used to be so gay-looking. And the longish slope of her haunches and her buttocks had lost its gleam and its sense of richness. Gone! Only the German boy had loved it, and he was ten years dead, very nearly. How time went by! Ten years dead, and she was only twenty-seven. The healthy boy with his fresh, clumsy sensuality that she had then been so scornful of! Where would she find it now? It was gone out of men. They had their pathetic, two-seconds spasms like Michaelis; but no healthy human sensuality, that warms the blood and freshens the whole being.

app̰ƣйҶ ۻ

He knew just where he was with Clifford. They were two alien dogs which would have liked to snarl at one another, but which smiled instead, perforce. But with the woman he was not quite so sure.

They shook their bright, sunny little rags in bouts of distress. But perhaps they liked it really; perhaps they really liked the tossing.

<`Not as Ah know on, ther' isna.'`But Connie!' she cried. `Whatever is the matter?'

`Oh, in that way!...May I hold your hand for a minute?' he asked suddenly, fixing his eyes on her with almost hypnotic power, and sending out an appeal that affected her direct in the womb.

app̰ƣͻ

He looked at her. She looked cold.

ƷͼƬapp̰ƣ

(ࣺӱӱ)

app̰ר

app̰ƼĶ

app̰ľ飺ٳһը Connie sat and listened in a sort of wonder, and a sort of fear. She did not know if he was right or not. There was Michaelis, whom she loved; so she said to herself. But her love was somehow only an excursion from her marriage with Clifford; the long, slow habit of intimacy, formed through years of suffering and patience. Perhaps the human soul needs excursions, and must not be denied them. But the point of an excursion is that you come home again. ϸ

գ뿪ˣ˸פ֧| ̵2018|ЩƷ˰µ 嵥ҪҪϣ

app̰˾ͯNHK󱨡ʵ׹󷢲ڲѵĸ `Why, exactly! So I should be if he began to urinate in a corner of my drawing-room. There's a place for all these things.' ϸ

app̰Ƶ⽻зϣ˫ָԻ̸| ̵2018|شƻȹ˾ִŹ
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