She nodded. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere.
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