s, Dilly and Jennifer were eyeing him. Jennifer leaned forward to Dilly and breathlessly uttered
“Do you know if Sir Pullmeoff takes a wife in Moscow?”
“Do you know Jennifer, I do not know that”. Dilly realised that it was a question she desperately wanted to ask but couldn’t. She knew he had wicked intentions and after her many, many ordeals at the hands of Farcy, she planned to make their relationship during his visit one of a purely platonic nature. But as she dropped slices of lemon and cucumber into her tea, she felt a familiar yearning. She knew she was lying to herself and with a stomach churning pang as she looked at her husband, she knew she was lying to dear George, too.
The grand, ivory steamer chugged up to the jetty and with merriment the party goers boarded. The boat left the jetty and sailed across the picturesque lake. A quartet played and the company strolled along the decks chatting and joking. George and Dilly were sat with Jennifer and her fiancée Count Bumton. Vladimir impressed some débutantes with his balls. He was a fine juggler, Dilly noted.
As the sun began to set, the captain rang the gong for dinner and George made a toast. In his toast he toasted his wife. Dilly loved the toast. The toast made her feel guilty, however. The toast was a toast for her. He was toasting her and Vladimir. “How dreadfully symbolic”, she thought.. “that toast..”.
The company was winding down. They were sitting on piles or ornate cushions from the orient on the deck. Having baths in candle light.
Dilly could hear their voices, she could see their mouths move but her mind was with Vladimir. She looked across the deck and spied him. He was languishing sultrily on the cushions with his legs spread wide apart in the manly fashion looking dark and sultry with several women fawning over him. Racked with guilt, she got up to take her leave of the scene.
“Excuse me George dear heart, I am going to get some air”.
George looked concerned but before he could thwart her escape with a reverie of loving enquiries his attention was stolen by Lord Bothington-Smythe (he of the Aquiline nose) who was interested in his shee
















