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原版英文小说On The Firing Line
Six feet one in his stockings, broad-shouldered and without an ounce of extra flesh, Harvard Weldon suddenly halted before one of a line of deck chairs.
"I usually get what I want, Miss Dent," he observed suggestively.
"You are more fortunate than most people." Her answering tone was dry.
Six feet one in his stockings, broad-shouldered and without an ounce of extra flesh, Harvard Weldon suddenly halted before one of a line of deck chairs.
"I usually get what I want, Miss Dent," he observed suggestively.
"You are more fortunate than most people." Her answering tone was dry.
