’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label.
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