The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. As soon as he became convalescent, and all fears of his premature dissolution were at an end, Wild recommenced his rigorous treatment.
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