The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. We made sure it was just like Gwen. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. She learned that she could orgasm four or five times in a day as they toyed with each other and slept entire days afterward without feeling a single pang of guilt.
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