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.Severeign reminded him he still owed the Game a seven, and in his fluster he gave her the seven crucial points of a girl, which she was inclined to allow, though only by making an exception, for as she pointed out, they seemed very much Matthew’s private thing, though possibly others had hit on them independently.Still deeply mortified by his fundamental oversight, though continuing to be intensely interested in everything (the loose electricity lingered on him), Matthew would not accept the favor.“The Seven Wise Men of Greece—Solon, Thales, and so on,” he said loudly and somewhat angrily, betting himself that those old boys had made a lot of slips in their time.She nodded absently, and looking somewhat smugly down herself, said (quite fatuously, Matthew thought), “The seven seals on the Book of the Lamb.”He said more loudly, his strange anger growing, “In the Civil War, the Battle of Seven Pines, also called the Battle of Fair Oaks.”She looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and said, “The Seven Maxims of the Seven Wise Men of Greece.” She looked down herself again and then down and up him.Her eyes, merry, met his.“Such as Pittacus: Know thy opportunity.”Matthew said still more loudly, “The Seven Days Battles, also Civil War, June twenty-fifth to July first inclusive, 1862—Mechanicsville, et cetera!”She winced at the noise.“You’ve got to the fourth age now,” she told him.“What are you talking about?” he demanded.“You know, Shakespeare.You gave it: the Seven Ages of Man.Fourth: ‘Then a soldier, full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon’s mouth.’ You haven’t got a beard, but you’re roaring like a cannon.”“I don’t care.You watch out.What’s your seven?”She continued to regard herself demurely, her eyes half closed.“Seven swans a-swimming,” she said liltingly and a dancing vibration seemed to move down her white body, like that which goes out from a swan across the still surface of a summer lake.Matthew roared, “The Seven Sisters, meaning the Scotch cannon at the Battle of Flodden!”She shrugged maddeningly and murmured, “Sweet Seventeen,” again giving herself the once-over.“That’s Sixteen,” he shouted.“And it’s not a seven anyhow!”She wrinkled her nose at him, turned her back, and said smiling over her shoulder, “Chilon: Consider the end.” And she jounced her little rump.In his rage Matthew astonished himself by reaching her in a stride, picking her up like a feather, and dropping her in the middle of the bed, where she continued to smile self-infatuatedly as she bounced.He stood glaring down at her and taking deep breaths preparatory to roaring, but then he realized his anger had disappeared.“The Seven Hells,” he said anticlimactically.She noticed him, rolled over once and lay facing him on her side, chin in hand.“The seven virtues,” she said.“Prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—those are Classical—and faith, hope and charity—those are Christian.”He lay down facing her.“The seven sins—”“We’ve had those,” she cut him off.“You gave them last night.”He at once remembered everything about the incident except the embarrassment.“Seven Footprints to Satan, a novel by Abraham Merritt,” he said, eyeing her with interest and idly throwing out an arm.“The Seven-Year Itch, a film with Marilyn Monroe,” she countered, doing likewise.Their fingers touched.He rolled over toward her, saying, “Seven Conquests, a book by Poul Anderson,” and ended up with his face above hers.He kissed her.She kissed him.In the starlight her face seemed to him that of a young goddess.And in the even, tranquil, shameless voice such a supernatural being would use, she said, “The seven stages of loving intercourse.First kissing.Then foreplay.” After a while, “Penetration,” and with a wicked starlit smile, “Bias: Most men are bad.Say a seven.”“Why?” Matthew asked, almost utterly lost in what they were doing, because it was endlessly new and heretofore utterly unimaginable to him—which was a very strange concept for a mathematician.“So I can say one, stupid.”“Oh, very well.The seven spots to kiss: ears, eyes, cheeks, mouth,” he said, suiting actions to words.“How very specialized a seven.Try eyebrow flutters too,” she suggested, demonstrating.“But it will do for an answer in the Game.The seven gaits in running the course you’re into.First the walk.Slowly, slowly.No, more slowly
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