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. “Dare!” she said. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. “I found not one but two photos when I researched the death of the McCloskeys. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water.
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