She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. “They never seem so at first!” he said. ’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. 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. ’ ‘Some of them more pleasurable than others, I take it. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. Niente.
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