Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. They got in my mouth. They don’t now. ‘I told you I would find out all about you, Melusine. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. ” He reeled out of the room. ” He stepped past her to the door and closed it. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being.
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