His last actions were futile. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. 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. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper.
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