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. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. ’ ‘How could he when he didn’t even handle it himself? Went off, I told you, and left it all to me. This way there will be not so much shame, and the vicomte will let them remain.
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