’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed. . They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. I’m turning into a big fat cow. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. He drew her closer. Moments are ages now. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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