Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. "Well?" he whispered. We were two people with a craving. ‘It is not your affair. It’s my other side of the moon.
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