She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now.
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