Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. Melusine tapped on it. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black.
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