He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. They hunted up shady nooks and went to sleep; but promptly at four they would be at the office, ready for barter. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. Maggot. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. ‘I borrow the expression from Melusine. Horrible doubts assailed her. He resented being regarded as irregular.
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