“No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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