She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. Could she go through with it? She must.
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