Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. She was gone. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it.
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