Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. Anna passed serenely out. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin.
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