She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. ’ She shook her head sadly. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled.
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