’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. “Please let me drive you home. But it’s as you say. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. I mean my cut-offs and boots.
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