“I’ll pay it in no time,” Balbina says, sounding tetchy. “I just got unlucky, that’s all.”

Nobody wants to linger, so after a curt goodbye, Amara and Terentia step out onto the street. “Good job you have the necklace,” Terentia says. “She’ll have to get very lucky at dice to pay that off in one go.”

“Thank you for arranging it,” Amara replies.

“I’ll expect the same interest myself next time,” Terentia says, hurrying off down the street. “Your master’s a skinflint.”

Dido is standing across the street, loitering outside a bakery, pretending to form part of the queue. “Thanks for waiting,” Amara says, joining her, stamping her feet on the cold pavement. “I guess we should get something to eat.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Dido replies. “How your nerves can stand it.”

It’s true that Dido looks more anxious than Amara. The risk she is running is so great, she has moved beyond fear. Instead, she is high on the sense of betrayal. Deceiving Felix is even more satisfying than she anticipated. “It should be fine,” she says. “Rufus will keep the surety safe for me.” He had also provided her with the purse full of cash, yet another test of his love. She told him it was for a friend who had got into debt, and he did not question her. He has no need to know about this side of her life. When she is installed in their love nest, she doesn’t want to rely on him for everything; it’s better if she has some means to support herself.

Dido is looking at her strangely. “What is it?” Amara asks, putting her hand to her neck, worried the chain might be showing. “What’s wrong?”

Dido shakes her head, embarrassed. “Nothing, it’s just . . .” She pauses, obviously not wanting to say.

“What?” They have reached the front of the line, and it will be their turn at the counter soon. Amara is impatient to know.

“I know how much you feel things, because I know you. But you look so cold sometimes. You look like . . .” Dido falters again.

Amara is annoyed by her dithering. “Like what?” she snaps.

“You look like Felix,” Dido blurts out. “I’m sorry. But you do.”

The words sting, but she doesn’t want to show it. “I suppose slaves get like their masters,” she says, tossing her head as if she doesn’t care. “At least he’s good at business.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Dido says, knowing her too well not to notice Amara is offended. “You could never be cruel like him—that’s not what I meant.”