“Even yourself?”
“Possibly.”
She smiled at him and drank some more. “What a sad way of looking at the world.”
“Perhaps it’s just that I see the world differently to you.” He sipped some of his own wine. She was already nearing the end of her drink and he had barely begun his. He saw no reason to try to keep up with her. “Are you going to tell me why you think I’m wrong about Edward?”
“It’s just impossible to believe,” she said, in a tone of voice which sounded as if she was tired of having to repeat it, making Rathe wonder how often she had had to say it to herself before she was convinced of it. “How well do you know him, Mr Rathe?”
“I only met him briefly at a party last night,” he confessed. “I spoke to him for the first time at lunch today.”
She sneered at the confession with a s
