His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. I'd like to be alone now. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first.
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