He stood completely still as she moved her tongue up and down its shaft. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. She recoiled. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again.
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