” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. Idiote. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek.
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