Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. 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. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. Voilà tout, as Melusine herself would say.
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