Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. 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. "Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. ” He made quite a long pause, and went on, with a sigh: “You have a voting paper given you—” They emerged into the publicity of the lawn.
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