“You see, I will take your arm. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. ’ Roding gave a bark of derisive laughter and left the room. My father died a year ago, by the way. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. I was his wife. Spurling. If that's true, she's not long for this world. . ‘You can if you like.
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