So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her.
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