Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Ray did not pace, he just stood. Wood laughed louder than ever. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. They stood back together and stared at it. Because of the Dance. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. Fetter Lane, on the left, Gray's Inn, on the right, added their supplies. Cut it as short as you can. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest.
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