Something about the girl had suggested an idea. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. Do you remember when we went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. I’m sorry Lucy. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. Salvation.
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