” He called for a hansom. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. 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. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly.
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