The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. In fact, it would not surprise me to discover that they were both Leonardo’s. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. ” “Then may I come to the study to-night—after dinner?” “I’m—BUSY!” “It’s important. Or perhaps my father once.
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