And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. This was his humiliation as well as hers. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. “For I know that you love Ennison.
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