He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. “I don’t suppose you’ll be able to do it much,” said Ann Veronica. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ” She said wistfully. ” “That’s why, in a way, I’m prudish. We are off for a second honeymoon. Furiously, she dashed his hands away.
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