Jonathan laughed scornfully. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. Spurling. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. " "Lord, that's just the lesson I've been expounding! It isn't a question of fear; it's one of propriety.
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