"I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. And he could not return this love. “Did they ever try it for themselves?” He wrestled his chin between her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs shut upon his ears.
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