She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. She was obliged to concede that his features were pleasing, his strength and vitality attractive; and there was no denying how well this uniform of a militia suited his figure, which was lean and powerful both. “Do it now. ” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things.
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