I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. “We’ve made out but we haven’t had sex. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. She glared at him with satisfaction. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. Then Mike came along. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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