Martin Torjussen
Publisher: unknown
Pages: 337

Sussex, England. 1967"He is caught by a whisper from inside the summerhouse, barely visible between the black silhouettes of trees. The sense of an audience pulls him together and he quickly sits up, his sudden anger returning for he did not know he was being observed. The dusk is heavy upon the garden and he strains to see who is there. She is naked except for a silk nightdress that barely covers her hips and as she peels back the small straps from her shoulders, her breasts, caught by the moonlight, fall exposed before him. She raises her head and gazes at him with a smile. It comes upon him as an urgent flash. He makes the decision without hesitation and tells himself that he deserves to be loved. Desire overwhelms him and he thinks neither of the past nor the future but only the surrender of the moment." Once, many years ago, Henryk Baranski told himself that he deserved to be ...
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