Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. It reminded Ann Veronica of having a tooth stopped. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work.
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