I lifted my chin and fixed him with a certain stare of mine. He gave my displeasure his full attention, while some bird trilled out a mighty evening song from the portico above. It takes a certain amount of strength, you know, to gaze without blinking into the eyes of a man you hardly know, a man as tall and dazzling as Thorpe, and to this day I don’t quite understand how I held firm, or why. From the windows of Government House floated the mist of some jiggly, dancing tune I didn’t recognize, the shadow of somebody’s braying laugh. The dark air lay against Thorpe’s skin. His eyes were narrowed and gray, the way the night drains color from everything. At last he sighed, glanced heavenward, and made a half turn toward the Government House entrance. “Taylor!” he called out.

For the first time, I noticed the footman there, or rather the doorman, straight-shouldered and tidy in his white uniform against the pink facade, lit by the windows behind him. “Yes, sir?” he said, staring straight ahead.

“You’ve seen me leave the premises in the company of Mrs. Randolph, correct?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“If something untoward occurs, you’re prepared to swear to that effect in a court of law?”

“Without hesitation, sir.”

Thorpe turned back to me. “You see? Nothing to fear. Intentions entirely honorable.”

I resumed walking toward the stairs. The air had cooled no more than a few degrees with the coming of night, but at least the brutal sun had sunk away. The atmosphere was hazy, the stars blurred in the sky above the nearby ocean. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder; I knew Thorpe had joined me. “That doesn’t prove a thing,” I said. “For all I know, you’re in collusion.”

“You’re a damned suspicious woman, Mrs. Randolph.”

“Women need to be suspicious, Thorpe, suspicious of everyone and everything. A woman on her own, especially. It’s a matter of survival.”

“Not all men are beasts, you know.”

“Enough of them are. Even one’s enough. Once you encounter your first wolf, why, you start to notice them everywhere.”

“I see,” he said. “Are we speaking of Mr. Randolph, perhaps?”

We were tripping down the endless flight of stairs, had already passed the statue of Columbus. Below us, the street was dark and quiet. I stopped midstep and waited for Thorpe to halt, to turn, two stairs below, so that his face sat at last on the same level as mine.

“There was a girl back at college,” I said. “Went off with a boy after a party, just like a little lamb. It didn’t end well.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have the smallest idea. You’ve never been anybody’s prey.”

“Not true.”