***** Coconuts grew perpetually. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. But she veiled her feelings. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Loneliness. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. ” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper.
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