His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. "No matter," replied Sheppard. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Too many.
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