“Heavens!” she exclaimed. F. He said. There was a lot of that, John, a great deal of hunger. 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. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered.
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