’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. "Hush!" she said. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Wood. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant.
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