She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. I feel like a fraudulent trustee.
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