Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. 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. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window.
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