Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. ” “There is so much I have not told you, John. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. He gave her silence in return.
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