In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid.
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