“And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. She is English, and apparently in some distress. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. They’re just all men, and no one is safe from scandal.
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