She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. By a sort of instinct. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion.
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