\" Lucy felt the familiar warmth surge upward from her crotch. Sometimes I try to talk. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. She could not say who, not yet.
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