He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could.
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