She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. I’ve never had these crying fits before. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. And what a noise they made! This is how I used to call them.
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