But if you wish to do old Wood a friendly turn, you may bring his wife. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. She directed the orchestra to tune again. She undid his zipper and pulled his shorts down his hips.
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