A poor device, it always seemed to me.
If Mr. Lucretius had asked him how he came to be in his wife's
bedroom overlooking her morals, what could he have said?
But the point is Lucrese submitted, and Alima didn't.
"She kicked me," confided the embittered prisoner--he had
to talk to someone. "I was doubled up with the pain, of course,
and she jumped on me and yelled for this old harpy [Moadine
couldn't hear him] and they had me trussed up in no time.
I believe Alima could have done it alone," he added with
reluctant admiration. "She's as strong as a horse. And of
course a man's helpless when you hit him like that. No woman
with a shade of decency--"
I had to grin at that, and even Terry did, sourly. He wasn't
given to reasoning, but it did strike him that an assault like his
rather waived considerations of decency.
"I'd give a year of my life to have her alone again," he said
slowly, his hands clenched till the knuckles were white.
But he never did.
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