There was a tap on the door. “Come in,” he said. He turned. It was Demelza, carrying a candle. She did not speak. The door swung closed behind her. She hadn’t changed and her eyes were like lamps. “What is it?” he said. “This frock.” “Well?” “The bodice unfastens down the back.” “Well?” “I can’t reach the hooks.” He frowned at her a moment. She came slowly up to him, turned, set the candle clumsily upon a table. “I’m sorry.” He began to undo the dress. She felt his breath on her neck.
Ross Poldark, Book Two, Chapter 24












