Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. Try and let him never regret it. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. This was unscrupulous, he admitted, because he had no intention of following through on the seductive promise in his conduct. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste.
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