It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. I never realized how fabulous all those homemade dishes were. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. I suppose I ought to have been a man. Let him be sure. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. ” Annabel looked at her with terrified eyes. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men.
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