She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. "Miss Enschede was born on an island in the South Seas. Afterwards we started for déjeuner in a motor. He handed Ruth a letter. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She cursed Satan and screamed at the heavens, praying to Mary frantically.
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