She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. " She paused. " "Never!" cried Mrs.
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