He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her.
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