He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. This way, my dear—and— you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but a quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient. Sheppard, falling on her knees.
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