gutenberg. He could lose himself for hours at a time. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. Manning. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. “I believe it is. I am bothered.
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