The Ragged Edge. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. 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. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Voilà tout. We'll get those books into your room first.
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