Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. Let us pass, Sir.
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