“Oh, you know,” she said. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. A remittance man. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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