‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy. You will agree with me when you have heard what I have to say. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. She had found two copies of the magazine and carefully cut out both photos. If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far.
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