*Tarquin*
Back in my study following the evening repast, I’m dimly aware that my mother’s house party has commenced. There’s been a great deal of commotion in the entryway shortly after the meal, which suggests that at least one prospective mate and her chaperone have arrived.
I have a reasonable amount of curiosity about the young she-wolves my mother considers suitable candidates for matrimony. But just at this moment, a cascade of giggles bounces its way up the stairs and into my study.
The giggler would surely fail my mother’s tests regarding enjoyment, innocent or otherwise, so it’s a waste of time to greet her. I pull off my coat and cravat, throw them over a chair, and sit back at my desk.
I’ve discarded polynomial equations for the moment and returned to the problem of light. I
