Perhaps I deceived you about it. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. ‘But I’ve known that for years. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it.
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