Chapter 23
Eliza
Pierce is splendid. Any place he is, energy follows, noticeably sending itself to whoever he is conversing with: backs fix, arms slacken, wave about. He energizes his visitors as a hand does a glove manikin. She watches him, her own shrewd pride a shock. Like such a great deal what Pierce causes her to feel, it is new. Ladies especially breathe life into in his quality – their eyes round, their mouths open in mock shock or entertainment, their heads fall back when they giggle. They are material and, indeed, coy. She battles against a proprietorial feeling – that pride again – yet can't help herself: he is hers, hers. He needed something else and she was it. She is his intriguing bloom. She is his butterfly.
She wishes Isla were here. You've never truly gone through that
