Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. The fates are never so kind to me. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. His blood would be sweet with it. There was plenty of sweet water. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work.
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