He lit a cigarette and loitered about. He was consumed with desire. “I wanted to make love to you. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. I spend many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant and beautiful things of life. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. ” “My God!” said Manning, in a stage-aside.
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