Mangan, who has ushered Charlotte into the part of the studio that is mostly under glass, calls back. “Bram! Come in. Come and meet these divine women. I mean to have them both model for me, though the dark one is reluctant. See what you can do to persuade her, why don’t you?”

At least he has the good grace to look uncomfortable at such an introduction. Though perhaps he is merely ill at ease because he knows I am aware of the sort of place he chooses to frequent.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” he says a little stiffly, and gives an awkward nod of the head that isn’t quite a bow, before changing his mind and offering me his hand. It is clear to me he has no more grasp of the topsy-turvy conventions of an artist’s home than the rest of us. I shake his hand.

“We have already met,” I remind him. “Or had you forgotten?”

“I would have to be blind or stupid or both to have forgotten you,” he says, and then adds, “but on that occasion we were not introduced.”

“It was hardly a place for formalities.”

“You know it well?”

I try not to let my discomfort show on my face. “Of necessity. I am compelled to go there on occasion to collect my … a family member who…”

“I see,” Bram cuts in. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“Sorry that my relative is so afflicted, or sorry that I do not share your love of such a destructive pastime?”

He flinches as if I have struck him. With a glance in Mangan’s direction, and lowering his voice slightly he says, “There are those who suffer lapses in character from time to time. Perhaps it is unkind to judge them.”

“Indeed.” I refuse to be won over by his argument. “And yet to see a friend in such a state and to encourage them…”

“Encourage?”

“Have you not considered that a person already in thrall to the dreadful substance might find it easier to abstain if those he kept company with did so also?” Even though I know Mangan’s indulgence in opium is an infrequent and small thing, less so than his drinking, indeed, I cannot let the thing rest. It distresses me that this apparently well-mannered and intelligent young man should think Mr. Chow Li’s a worthwhile place to visit at all. I hear myself being unkind, intolerant, unreasonable, even, but I cannot stop myself. Why should it matter what this stranger does or thinks or feels?

“My abstinence has no bearing on my mentor’s actions, I assure you.”

“Do you know that? Have you tried even to modify your own behavior?”

Bram opens his mouth to respond but says nothing. The silence between us grows.