What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. 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. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow.
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