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D. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. ” Lucy said, already exhausted by her friend. Obviously he is still interested. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. This business of love is the supreme affair in life, it is the woman’s one event and crisis that makes up for all her other restrictions, and I cower—as we all cower—with a blushing and paralyzed mind until it overtakes me!.
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