” “It is very nice of you to think of it,” Anna said briskly. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. 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. They should never come into contact with politics or economics—or any of those things.
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