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. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. They weren’t very chummy with one another but Sheila 113 didn’t expect much from a foster daughter as long as she worked hard, very hard, to earn her keep. This child at once alarmed and thrilled them. You'll find me at supper. "I am Owen Wood, at your service.
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