Chapter Twenty-Four
Delila’s dress covered her marks perfectly and no blemish shone on her, when she walked into the sparkling restaurant at a later dinner hour. There was just the radiance of her wondrous complexion and a peacefulness that her hours before had given her.
“This is as fine as any restaurant in New Victoria,” she remarked.
“Finer,” Degas replied, as they were seated in one corner of the establishment, in a booth that was secluded from view by its seat that rose higher than their heads.
“You’ve mystified me, Degas,” she said, offering him a smile, as she drank her first wine from an amber glass. This didn’t sting, though the aroma and taste were almost too much for her virgin palette.
Degas smiled.
“And you’ll still not tell me what this is about?” she asked.
“Ah, I c
