Or perhaps my father once. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. She reeled in excitement, she unzipped his pants while kissing him, trying not to let herself stop touching him as she unclothed him. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers.
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