She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. "On my return, I found the window open, and the room vacant.
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