“Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Wood. . ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. By instinct. You say you need a man. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. " "I'll never understand. I want to be myself.
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