There was nothing to be learned from her face. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. F. He had done it. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad.
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