They want some fun, and there isn't any. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. He returned, blue towel in hand. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. He embraced her fully. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care.
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