The man’s passion was infectious. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. 8. She crushed the letter in her hand. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. “Yes?” he said. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy.
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