You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. 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.
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