He was especially good at
holding a girl, when he sat with her on a stile in the black, drizzling
darkness. He seemed to be holding her in space, against his own warmth
and gratification. And his kisses were soft and slow and searching.
So Annie walked out with John Thomas, though she kept her own boy
dangling in the distance. Some of the tram-girls chose to be huffy. But
there, you must take things as you find them, in this life.
There was no mistake about it, Annie liked John Thomas a good deal. She
felt so rich and warm in herself whenever he was near. And John Thomas
really liked Annie, more than usual. The soft, melting way in which she
could flow into a fellow, as if she melted into his very bones, was
something rare and good. He fully appreciated this.
But with a developing acquaintance there began a developing intimacy.
Annie wanted to consider him a person, a man; she wanted to take an
intelligent interest in him, and to have an intelligent response. She did
not want a mere nocturnal presence, which was what he was so far. And she
prided herself that he could not leave her.
Here she made a mistake. John Thomas intended to remain a nocturnal
presence; he had no idea of becoming an all-round individual to her. When
she started to take an intelligent interest in him and his life and his
character, he sheered off. He hated intelligent interest. And he knew
that the only way to stop it was to avoid it.
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