Then he understood. “Thank you,” she said coolly. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. . “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her.
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