She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. She was the High Priestess. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. “For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs.
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