Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. “Mind my smoking?” said Roddy. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket.
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