"I never knew what it was to crave a woman’s touch. Or to hunger for a woman’s kiss.” “And now you do?” she asked hesitantly. “Since I met you, Corinne Bishop, I’ve been thinking of little else."

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It's a wonderful feeling to have a niece like you Because you are always so dear You are so dear no matter the year But all throughout each day of the year There could hardly be a town in the South of England where you could throw a brick without hitting the niece of a bishop.

— George Orwell