” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. "Yes; and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him," said Quilt. "If so, it won't pay.
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