“Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. ‘En tout cas, I have waiting for me a cavalier. I would have liked to know. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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