“Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. And in its way it was very well. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout.
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