Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. It was a grand life. He backed away from her. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. You might even tire of me by then, you know. ” “Very sad—very sad indeed,” he remarked uneasily.
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