He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. Sheppard. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. " "Ah, yes.
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