Dear, he's hung like a horse, I overheard you tell a friend. In the beginning, we got on well enough, the three of us. He was good company, you said, for a night at the theatre, or to partner in a dance. They're not your cup of tea, you said. Until those nights, with three to dine and two to stay, when you'd linger in the hall, became the closed door and the creaking bed, with the
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