Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. “May I tell Nigel to come and see you again? I am not here to do his love-making for him, you know. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. ‘You have rifled his papers. I could never make you understand.
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