"Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. “He just wants to get laid, you know. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying.
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