Chapter 5 Fives

Fives I want to talk about how we had skin-to-skin contact. Strange to say, we have always been "the river does not violate the well water" for such a long period of time.The big deal was the kisses already mentioned (I still remember every detail of each one.) It's not my style, because I'm quite impulsive, impatient, and like to get it done overnight.If you told any one of the ten or more girls at Tower Court in Wellesley who knew my temper well that Oliver Barrett Fourth had been seeing a lady every day for three weeks, you'd be fine. Having never slept with her, they would have laughed out loud and asked seriously whether the lady was a woman or not.Of course, the actual situation is not the same.

1 Wellesley is a private women's university in eastern Massachusetts. I just don't know what to do. Please don't misunderstand, and don't be too literal.I know all the methods.I just can't get over the feeling of getting in the way of doing it myself.Jenny is very smart, and I've always thought Oliver Barrett IV had the unfailing romantic grace, and now I'm worried that this "style" might make her laugh.Yes, I was afraid of being rejected.But I am also afraid that the other party will accept me for some unreasonable reasons.What I want to say but can't explain is: I have a strange feeling for Jennifer, but I don't know how to express it, and I don't even know who to talk to (later she said to me: "You should talk to me .”) All I know is that I’m feeling this way.to her.To her whole son.

"I'm afraid you will fail this test, Oliver." It was a Sunday afternoon, and Jennifer and I were sitting in my room reading a book. "Oliver, if you just sit there and just watch me read, I'm afraid you will fail this exam." "I'm not watching you read. I'm reading my own book." "Bullshit. You're looking at my legs." "Just a glance once in a while. A glance from a chapter." "Your book is so short in chapters." "Listen to me, you self-proclaimed sentimental woman, you are not that beautiful!"

"I know. But if you think I'm so beautiful, what can I do?" I dropped the book and walked over to where she was sitting. "Jenny, for Christ's sake, tell me, how can I be bothered to read John Stuart Mill when I'm dying to make out with you every second?" 1 John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), British philosopher, economist, and logician. She frowned. "Oh, Oliver, please?" I squatted down next to her chair.She looked down at her book again. "Jenny—" She gently closed the book in her hand, put the book down, stretched out her hands, and held my neck.

"Oliver, can I please?" It happened all at once.Everything. Our first sex was the exact opposite of our first conversation.This time, everything was so calm, so gentle, so tactful.I never realized that the real Jenny could be this--so considerate, so soft, so tender in her touch.However, it was my own reaction that really shocked me.I also reciprocate with tenderness and tenderness.Is that the real Oliver Barrett fourth? Since "river water does not violate well water", I have never seen Jenny's woolen sweater with one more button undone.So I was a little surprised to find that she still had a little gold cross around her neck.The cross was hung from a chain that could never be undone.That is to say, she still wore the cross while we were in love.There was a respite in that ecstasy afternoon, when I felt everything was so sweet and nothing was on my mind, and I touched the little crucifix, and asked her then: what if her priest knew We share the same bed, etc., I don't know what to say?Janney replied that she had no priest.

"Aren't you a nice Catholic girl?" "Well, I'm a girl," she said. "And a nice girl." She looked at me, waiting for my confirmation.I smiled and she smiled back. "So, two out of three." Then I asked her why she was wearing a cross, and the chain was still welded dead.It was her mother's, Jenny explained; she wore it for sentimental reasons, not religious ones. "Hey, Oliver, did I tell you I loved you?" Jenny asked. "No, Jen." "Why didn't you ask me?" "To be honest, I didn't dare to ask."

"Then you ask me now?" "Do you love me, Jenny?" She looked at me and replied: "What do you think?" But her expression was not evasive. "Love, I reckon. It must be." I kissed her neck. "Oliver!" "Well??" "I don't just love you..." Oh my gosh, how do you say that? "I still love you very, very much, Oliver."