“Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. What the editor had to say none of the three cared just then. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. But first,’ said Melusine with determination, ‘I will find that which I came to find.
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