She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. His advice was mostly practical. “My dear Anna,” he answered. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. “I wanted to make love to you. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation.
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