The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid; begging Mrs. “Come,” she said. She dressed quickly, pulling on white jeans and a red tee shirt. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. ’ Your name alone would fill any music hall in London.
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