Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. Lots of us are like that. Sorry. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends.
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