Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. She kept her eyes closed. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. . “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He asked, incredulous. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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