“Thank you—for coming,” he said. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. I believe you’ve crushed a gland or something. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. It was late before Jonathan ventured to his own house, where he remained up all night, and kept his janizaries and other assistants well armed.
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