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“Well,” she admitted. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. ” “Much better,” she agreed. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now.
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