The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. She had exposed the real story behind Peters tragedy, that dark, handsome Chuck had killed himself by leaving the car running in the garage, not from a “heart attack” as 111 claimed the party line. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. She reeled in excitement, she unzipped his pants while kissing him, trying not to let herself stop touching him as she unclothed him.
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