Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. It was a haunted place. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. “Don’t let them know I’m here. Queer old gentleman! The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own thoughts and her own knowledge. ’ Gerald tutted. He had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
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