The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms.
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