She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. There’s stories, too, about his demonstrator, Capes Something or other. She pulled her hand away quickly. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. "As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. But before the Grieg concerto was done, she knew that she was free.
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