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“Lavender's thoughts returned to the poetry, and Robert reading it, canting, rich-toned, about hands, kisses. It shall be you. Having no smelling salts nearby, Lavender moved matters to a more pragmatic realm. "I must warm the tea," she told Robert. For the pot had sat, untouched, for some time, and had surely cooled. (In the kitchen, she loosened her collar, to alleviate her overheated state, to avoid becoming a sweaty brook.)” — Jeanette Lynes
Lavender's thoughts returned to the poetry, and Robert reading it, canting, rich-toned, about hands, kisses.
It shall be you.
Having no smelling salts nearby, Lavender moved matters to a more pragmatic realm. "I must warm the tea," she told Robert. For the pot had sat, untouched, for some time, and had surely cooled.
(In the kitchen, she loosened her collar, to alleviate her overheated state, to avoid becoming a sweaty brook.)