"I hope not. 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. Here again instinct guided her. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. But this only incensed the assailing party the more. . A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world.
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