She climbed on top of him and straddled him, reinserting his penis inside her. “Hold on, she’s right here. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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