CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. ’ She struggled. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. Always the other things remained. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again.
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