‘You must think I’m an awful nuisance,’ she murmured, and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes cool and dispassionate.
‘I think you should go and take off those wet pants,’ he declared flatly, and she withdrew her fingers as if he had burned them.
‘I—I—yes, of course,’ she stammered, getting to her feet, and this time she didn’t make any mistake in her choice of direction.
Вы ознакомились с фрагментом книги.
Приобретайте полный текст книги у нашего партнера: