‘Collis, my lover,’ she said, and her voice shook.

From the doorway, if anyone had seen them, it would have appeared as if they were sitting quietly together, waiting for Winifred to return from the kitchen. But a particularly observant spectator would have seen Delphine close her eyes now and again for no apparent reason, and Collis occasionally reaching out with his right hand as if he were about to take something invisible from out of the air. The morning sunlight faded and then brightened again, casting patterns across the floor and misty aureoles around the lovers’ faces. Delphine’s eyes looked bright, but blind, as if she was concentrating every ounce of attention on the suppressed explosion that was growing in her mind.

It could have lasted no time at all, or for ever. But then Delphine gripped his thigh so hard that it hurt and she gasped: ‘My God. My God, Collis, my God,’ and her face was flushed and congested. He caressed her even deeper, until she made a sound like a sniff, and then sat with her eyes screwed up tight and quaked and quaked.

There were footsteps in the hallway. Collis quickly withdrew his hand and moved himself back on the chaise longue, trying to appear formal and calm and composed all at once, in spite of the emotions that were heaving up inside him. Delphine mouthed a silent word at him, he wasn’t even sure what it was, but it looked like a plea for something, for understanding or for love, or for the day and the week and maybe even the world to stop right then and there, so that the sensuality of the past few minutes could stay with her always.

The footsteps passed. It was the footman, answering the door to a caller. Delphine took Collis’s hand, the hand that had taken her, and squeezed it tight.

‘I’m sorry, Collis,’ she whispered. ‘It was all my fault. Please don’t think badly of me. Please.’

‘How could I think badly of you?’ he asked her. ‘You’re like an angel. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. You disturb me as nobody else.’

‘I didn’t mean to do that,’ she said. Her wide eyes glistened with tears. ‘I didn’t mean to behave like a strumpet. But there isn’t any more time, is there? No more time for proper courting. And I couldn’t let you go without finding out at least what—’

She lowered her head. He could hardly stand to look at the soft curve of her neck, knowing that he was going to lose her. He bit his lip and blinked with sadness.

‘At least what kind of a lover you are,’ she added huskily. ‘At least what kind of a man.’