G. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse. ” He chuckled, wincing at the thought. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. \"Josh Durkin?\" Lucy whispered loudly. 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. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ” She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the letters still in her hand. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me.
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