” “Why not?” She turned on him. You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. She began by being interested in his demonstrations and his biological theory, then she was attracted by his character, and then, in a manner, she fell in love with his mind. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. stare. I sang to him, and he was satisfied.
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