Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. His sister appeared. I want her to get forward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do with her.
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