Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly.
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