" "All right, Mr. 8 or 1. ” He stared at her incredulously, and she laughed very softly. His glance came up again and met hers. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. “Me and my bright ideas. “Please forgive me. But she could see that Diane watched her more closely now, and in a cat-like way. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. “I cannot say more. ” “Alive,” Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. Wood.
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