Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. His frowning gaze came back to her. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Maggot. 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. What’s the name of the happy man?” Gwen owned to “Fortescue. —There, Mr.
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