Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. “We will convince him now to the contrary,” Annabel answered. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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