’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Then a surge of rage welled up. He's passed through some rough mental torture. But I suppose as I’ll have to wait until you can hear me to tell you again.
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