She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. 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. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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