Do you expect me, I wonder. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years.
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