She shot a sudden glance at him. 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. She fell into another depression, refusing to touch Sebastian or call him husband when he demanded it. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. One keeps rules in order to be one’s self.
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