Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Saw the villain through the keyhole. ” “All these things,” he muttered bitterly, “this desperate resolve to take your life into your own hands, your unnatural craving for independence, would never trouble you for a moment—if you really cared. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him.
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