Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. He drew out the check and the editorial letter.
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