“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. She took a deep breath. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. "No more, please! I am bewildered enough.
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