"I have a very vivid imagination," Millicent said, relieved when he simply took over the wheel, saying little about it. She even managed a somewhat steady rhythm, which was much, much easier than trying to feed the wool into the tiny hole.
She watched her foot as she did it, concentrating. If she never told Flint another secret in her life it'd still be at least one too many.
"Exactly," she added, glancing at his fingers working the wheel. It looked so damn easy, and there was none of that thick-and-thin, curly-and-uncurly she'd had going on. "How long have you been doing this?" she asked. "You're bloody good."