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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. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. The Higher Life and the Lower. She was not a Christian woman. She heard him come in; the light burned on. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone.
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