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He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it.
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