She left for good after he fell asleep. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. ‘I will do so. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. ’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. How old are you?” She asked. Gianfrancesco was not ugly, in fact, perhaps he was rather handsome after all.
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