Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. "Get from under it, Jack!" vociferated Thames. It was obvious that he had waited for her.
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