His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. You don't realize what you have done. His voice had broken. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes.
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