Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. Now I’ll tell you what I propose. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms.
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