"It is never too late. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. Your son was seen by the carpenter's wife in company with the robbers. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. ‘That’s wicked, that is.
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