Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. Manning called. He had. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. He was clearing up these difficulties by tracing a partially obliterated suture the Scotchman had overlooked when the door from the passage opened, and Manning came into his universe. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more.
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