He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. " "Man, she's your wife!" "And I am a thief.
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