Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Gerald hoped he had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a visit. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable.
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