He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. ‘But you are idiot. ’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly.
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