’ Gerald eyed her. Everything in the world had changed for her. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. I'm going through his pockets. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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