She nodded. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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