So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs. "It's a pump, like an organ.
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