‘Yes, but quite my own fault. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. I expect company. " The Wastrel laughed. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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