Gerald tried it. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. No one ate with as much passionate gusto as a teenager could.
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