The quiver was going through the man's body, as the stream of consciousness again changed its direction, turning downwards. And he was helpless, as the penis in slow soft undulations filled and surged and rose up, and grew hard, standing there hard and over-weening, in its curious towering fashion. The woman, too, trembled a little as she watched.
"There! Take him then! He's thine," said the man.
And she quivered, and her own mind melted out. Sharp soft waves of unspeakable pleasure washed over her as he entered her, and started the curious molten thrilling that spread and spread till she was carried away with the last, blind flush of extremity.
He heard the distant hooters of Stacks Gate, for seven o'clock. It was Monday morning. He shivered a little, and with his face between her breasts pressed her soft breasts up over his ears, to deafen him.
She had not even heard the hooters. She lay perfectly still, her soul washed transparent.
"You must get up, mustn't you?" he muttered.
"What time?" came her colourless voice.
"Seven-o'clock blowers a bit sin'."
"I suppose I must."
She was resenting, as she always did, the compulsion from outside.
He sat up and looked blankly out of the window.
"You do love me, don't you?" she asked calmly.
He looked down at her.
"Tha knows what tha knows. What dost ax for!" he said, a little fretfully.
"I want you to keep me, not to let me go," she said.
His eyes seemed full of a warm, soft darkness that could not think.
"When? Now?"
"Now in your heart. Then I want to come and live with you always, soon."
He sat naked on the bed, with his head dropped, unable to think.
"Don't you want it," she asked.
"Ay!" he said.
