“I mean—I try, Max. I make the situation perfectly clear. No commitments, either side. They always agree. They tell me they don’t want involvements either. They’re modern women…” He sighed. “For some reason they always stress that, just how modern they are. And then…”

“Yes?”

“They’re never very modern the next morning, however modern they claimed to be the night before.”

This statement, made with an air of profound bewilderment, both amused and touched Max. “For that,” he said tartly, “you have only yourself to blame. Presumably you do something to them in the interim to effect this remarkable change. It doesn’t take a great deal of imagination, Rowland, to work out what that might be. My advice—”

“I don’t want to hear your advice.” Rowland, as Max could have predicted, moved sharply to the door. “I’ve had enough of this conversation. I’m going to have a bath.”

“Sure. Sure. Change the subject.” Max made an irritated waving gesture of the hand. “You always do. It’s a pity you won’t listen to a man of my wisdom and experience, especially now.”

Rowland paused. “Especially now? Why especially now?”

“Well, there is this weekend to consider. There’s Lindsay. There’s Gini. I’m sure you’ll handle them both perfectly. You’re the expert when it comes to female psychology, as you’ve just been explaining. So I’m sure it will be clear sailing.”

Rowland hesitated, his hand on the door. Then, with a sigh, he turned around.

“I might have known it.” He looked at Max closely. “You brought me up here for a reason, didn’t you? There’s something you haven’t told me—something I need to know?”

“I was biding my time.” Max gave a small smile. “I wanted you to meet Gini first. Now that you’ve met her, I’d better explain.” There was a brief silence. Without comment, Rowland pulled out a chair and sat astride it. He waited.

“I didn’t want to say this before,” Max began somewhat evasively, “because I know how prejudiced you can be. You will jump to conclusions. You can be censorious, Rowland, and—”

“Get to the point, Max.”

“Genevieve Hunter. Her trip to Bosnia. You want to know why I was so reluctant to send her? It wasn’t just because she’s a woman.”

“Then what was the reason?”

“She lives with Pascal Lamartine.”

This admission was met with silence, then a frown. Max shifted in his seat.

“You didn’t know?”

“You know perfectly well I didn’t know. And you were very careful not to tell me. Why?”

“Because I knew you’d disapprove. I guessed you couldn’t have heard the gossip when you said you wanted to use her.”

“I never listen to gossip. And you’re right—I would have disapproved.”

“Yes, well, not everyone shares your desire to separate their personal and their working lives,” Max said waspishly. “She—”

“I make that distinction now,” Rowland said quietly. “I try to make it. And I know just how hard it can be. I learned that six years ago. Come on, Max—I’m in no position to be censorious. You know that perfectly well…”