"Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. “Why?” He inquired.
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