She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. But, no. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. S. Melusine did not attempt to speak. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. Wary they might be.
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