He fondled her naked breasts with his fingers, then his mouth. “That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her.
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