By six—the hour when the day tended to dissolve quickly—they had run out of things to say. "I should go," she said. "Yes, I really must go."

"To see the marquis?"

She bit her lip. "He's not an unpleasant person, Nicky. In fact I think you might even like him."

"No, I'm sure I wouldn't."

She reached for his hand. "I suppose you're right. You probably wouldn't like him at all."

Her suite was what he had expected—extravagance at a man's expense. Her clothing lay on the floor and draped over the back of chairs. Her cosmetics were scattered everywhere. The maid had changed the sheets. There was a view of poplars on the boulevards below. What with the fever and exhaustion they did not make love, but she insisted that he take off his uniform, then slipped into bed beside him, and held him, just held him for a long while. When he woke up after dreaming about the front it took a moment before he remembered where he was.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Late."

She was sitting in lamplight, drinking champagne, leafing through a magazine. Her dressing gown had fallen from her shoulders. Her hair hid her eyes. The sounds and smells were familiar— cigarettes and perfume, pigeons on the adjoining roof, distant traffic below.

"I ordered dinner," she said. "It's probably cold but if you're hungry ..."

"What about the marquis?"

She tossed the magazine aside. "He'll understand ... After all, this is a war." She smiled nicely.

He climbed out of bed, wrapping the sheet around his waist. The first few steps were unsteady, but he felt better. He moved to the window, unlatched it and took a breath of cold clean air . . . Yes, definitely better.

"There's beer," she said. "Probably warm by now."

He moved to her side, sank to his knees. "Margaretha, don't you think it's time to stop?"

"Stop? Stop what, Nicky?"

"You know. The marquis, that baron in Amsterdam . . . Isn't it just about time you stopped?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, then pressed his face to her breasts—against the cool silk, then to the bare skin. "That's something I've always loved about you, Nicky. You actually make me feel as if I had some control over my life." This time she wasn't smiling ...

He stayed five days, taking short walks in the mornings and evenings, resting in the afternoons or when she was off somewhere. As his health returned he gradually wandered afield, mostly across the river, where there were better memories.