She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up.
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