She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. “I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water. Once they were on the move, Kimble seemed to find strength from somewhere. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. You must wait till supper's over. And let's see if either of these women, who prate of their love for you, will do as much.
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