Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply.
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