“Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. 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. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. We shall have him on his return. “No thanks, Cathy. As the night advanced, Mr.
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