She prevaricated. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine. He moaned in excitement as his lips wrapped around the peak of her right breast. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses.
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