“So Mr. ” She replied. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. I have had my day; and there were women in it.
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