“Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. Her small round breasts were vulnerable under her mostly nonfunctional Kmart bikini bra. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.
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