“Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble.
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