It simply doesn’t count. ‘For kissing you, or for not meaning to do so?’ ‘Imbecile,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater.
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