Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ‘Gad, what a mess!’ Gerald pulled free, and Melusine broke back, staring at him. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. That was Leonardo’s motto.
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