That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. . She felt the thrill race through her body. . “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. . He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss.
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