Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them.
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