’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. She loved him. And would you mind hurrying a little. I have unfinished business. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated.
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