1 But when my blood comes up, I'm glad.
2 That's when my blood sinks, and I'm low.
3 'You don't mistrust with your body, when your blood comes up,' she said.
4 'Then the common people aren't a race, and the aristocrats aren't blood,' she said.
5 Connie looked, and there, sure enough, was a big black cat, stretched out grimly, with a bit of blood on it.
6 They had their pathetic, two-seconds spasms like Michaelis; but no healthy human sensuality, that warms the blood and freshens the whole being.
7 They all wanted to get money out of you: or, if they were travellers, they wanted to get enjoyment, perforce, like squeezing blood out of a stone.
8 It would take many years for the living blood of the generations to dissolve the vast black clot of bruised blood, deep inside their souls and bodies.
9 Today she could almost feel it in her own body, the huge heave of the sap in the massive trees, upwards, up, up to the bud-tips, there to push into little flamey oak-leaves, bronze as blood.
10 And, one day when she came, she found two brown hens sitting alert and fierce in the coops, sitting on pheasants' eggs, and fluffed out so proud and deep in all the heat of the pondering female blood.
11 And as she melted small and wonderful in his arms, she became infinitely desirable to him, all his blood-vessels seemed to scald with intense yet tender desire, for her, for her softness, for the penetrating beauty of her in his arms, passing into his blood.