She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. His new wife’s face was sweet and angelic with hair the color of flax, her belly already visibly large beneath a roe skin pelt. "How long shall I be here?" he asked. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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