"Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. "There's a young woman. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust.
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