She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. It’s true. Let me take the satchel, sir. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled.
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