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. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. "But I like Bobby Burns best. He spoke English with astonishing facility and with a purity which often embarrassed his tourists. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife.
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