Miriam Cornell appeared more and more frequently in arousing daydreams. These reveries were vivid and obliterating but there could be no conclusion, no relief. His young smooth body with its treble voice and a child’s soft gaze was not yet ready. At first she was one of a small cast – the others were girls in their late teens, friendly, delightful in their nakedness, their faces remembered from photographs in his mother’s clothing catalogues. But by the time he was thirteen, Miss Cornell had driven them out. She stood alone on stage in the theatre of his dreams to supervise with her
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