” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. Shoplatch. Professor Michael S.
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