‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. 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. This is your moment. You are the woman I love, Anna. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. He took the first step toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock.
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