He lowered himself onto her and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. . ” “I say, you know, you have some pluck.
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