“Not to-night,” she said. She slipped her hand between them and grasped his erection. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. Oh, you must believe me. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. On this I am resolved. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss. The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock. This way, Sir Rowland.
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