Lady Chatterley's Lover
D. H. Lawrence
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With a queer obedience, she lay down on the blanket. Then she felt the soft, groping, helplessy desiderous hand touching her body, feeling for her face. The hand stroked her face softly, softly, with infinite soothing and assurance, and at last there was the soft touch of a kiss on her cheek. She lay quite still, in a sort of sleep, in a sort of dream.