VI
It was May when he next found her. The luncheon in Zurich was a council of caution; obviously the logic of his life tended away from the girl; yet when a stranger stared at her from a nearby table, eyes burning disturbingly like an uncharted light, he turned to the man with an urbane version of intimidation and broke the regard.
‘He was just a peeper,’ he explained cheerfully. ‘He was just looking at your clothes. Why do you have so many different clothes?’
‘Sister says we’re very rich,’ she offered humbly. ‘Since Grandmother is dead.’
‘I forgive you.’
He was enough older than Nicole to take pleasure in her youthful vanities and delights, the way she paused fractionally in front of the hall mirror on leaving the restaurant, so that the incorruptible quicksilver could give her back
