His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. She kissed his neck and licked him there. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. It tore her apart. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room.
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