She laid her hand upon his arm. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. He stopped abruptly. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever.
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