He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. Enough to let her find out a piece of information most urgent. “Did they ever try it for themselves?” He wrestled his chin between her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs shut upon his ears.
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