I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna the Adventuress, by E.
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