It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare.
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