’ ‘Pah!’ rejoined Melusine, apparently unconscious of echoing him. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor. At last—I told a story. .
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