As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. " "No, no! I have had wicked thoughts. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards.
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