All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. “Mary Lucia. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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