’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. These women could not be bad, else the hotel would not have permitted them to enter! Still, the scene presented a riddle: to give immunity to the black women who went about all but naked and to damn the white for exposing their shoulders! She had eaten but little; all her hunger had been in her eyes—and in her heart. \"I told you he likes you!\" She whispered hotly into Lucy's ear. The bus however was full. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. "One last embrace. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last.
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