She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. The man’s passion was infectious. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. It was hard to resist. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. Anna passed serenely out. Let us be gone. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says.
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