Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. Wood's displeasure; and he was the more readily induced to do this, as the conversation began to turn upon his own affairs. 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. Stanley’s acquaintance in the train and shown him one or two trifling civilities. “It was a phase,” she said. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes.
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