‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. An electric light flashed out from the wall. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime.
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