“You’re a poet!” She was stalling for time. “Is ‘Aglaia the White Dove’ about a woman? I suppose they are all about women, they’re rather rude…I’m sorry. I was interested…”

Aglaia was a girl I knew, neither white nor the least bit like a dove. Come to that, Aglaia was not her name.

Bright eyes was still giving me that vulnerable look, but to rather worse effect. The loveliest women lose their gloss once you notice they are lying through their teeth.

“You’re about to hear something considerably ruder!” I snapped. “Sosia Camillina? So why the false travel pass?”

“I was frightened!” she protested. “I didn’t want to say my name, I didn’t know what you wanted—” I let it pass; neither did I.

“Who’s Helena?”

“My cousin. She went to Britain. She got divorced—”

“Extravagance, or mere adultery?”

“She said it was too complicated to explain.”

“Ah!” I cried bitterly. I had never been married but I was an expert in divorce. “Adultery. I’ve heard of women being exiled to islands for immoral behaviour, but exile to Britain seems a bit bleak!”

Sosia Camillina looked curious. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve been there.”

Because of the rebellion I sounded terse. She would have been six years old at the time. She did not remember the great British Revolt and I was not starting history lessons now.

Suddenly she demanded: “Why did your friend call you a tricky character?”

“I’m a republican. Petronius Longus thinks that’s dangerous.”

“Why are you a republican?”

“Because every free man should have a voice in the government of the city where he has to live. Because the senate should not hand control of the Empire for life to one mortal, who may turn out insane or corrupt or immoral—and probably will. Because I hate to see Rome degenerate into a madhouse controlled by a handful of aristocrats manipulated by their cynical ex-slaves, while the mass of its citizens cannot earn a decent living…” Impossible to tell what she made of all that. Her next inquiry was stubbornly practical.

“Do private informers earn a decent living?”

“Taking every legal opportunity, they grab enough to keep alive. On good days,” I said, “there may be tucker on the table to give us the energy to rave at the injustice of the world—” I was well away now. I had matched Petronius levelly with the wine.

“Do you think the world is unjust?”

“I know it, lady!”

Sosia stared at me gravely, as if she were saddened that the world had treated me so hard. I stared back. I was none too overjoyed myself.

I felt tired. I went out into the living room and after a moment the girl came too.

“I need to go to the lavatory again.”