Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. “I wish he had,” she said.
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