Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. . “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. 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. “No, those are my brother’s dog tags.
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