She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. ” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. Womanhood is sacred to me. E.
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