A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Kneebone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. Sebastian drew over to her and lifted her chin from her chest. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds.
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