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Summer | Edith Wharton | |
Chapter XI |
Page 6 of 6 |
"I know the way you must feel about me," she broke out, "...telling you such things...." But once more, as she spoke, she became aware that he was no longer listening. He came close and caught her to him as if he were snatching her from some imminent peril: his impetuous eyes were in hers, and she could feel the hard beat of his heart as he held her against it. "Kiss me again--like last night," he said, pushing her hair back as if to draw her whole face up into his kiss. |
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Summer Edith Wharton |
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