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. ‘That is good,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘for I was compelled on Saturday to abandon the chase. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. I believe I am getting impudent. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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