His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing.
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