Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. But there was a face pressed to the glass. Epithalamy might do. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. One gets a lot more fun married.
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