Wood the best of wives. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. The door of cabin 2 was open. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. gutenberg. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets.
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