‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. "I read those stories. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon.
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