What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. Delight surged through her as her breasts, shoulders, and belly touched his naked flesh all at once. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. His mom was a famous model.
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