Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor.
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