The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. She turned a resolute face southward. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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