She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. She felt his tongue press into her mouth. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way.
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