She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily.
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