The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Certainly I never met him. But I do not even care if I am absurd. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally.
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