She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “Should I leave? Sounds like she is running out of food.
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