She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. “Steady on!” he cried. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed.
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