” The detective went down on his hands and knees. ” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. . His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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