My guest follows me from the ball room and we leave it to its fond and distant memories of gayer times. I stand at the foot of the stairs and wait a moment as Randall’s eyes sweep this great and beautiful chamber like a child’s in a sweet shop. I tune myself into his mind,
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Clearly not quite able to believe his good fortune, the young boy whom she had chosen for the night chatted animatedly and at length, his arm slung casually across her slender shoulders as they made their way towards her apartment block. She entertained the boy’s humour and enthusiasm with well mannered grace and humility, smiling occasionally and even laughing when one of his stories reached it’s tiresomely predictable conclusion. He watched them, laughing and stroking one another unashamedly and a cold possessive streak of jealous ignited within the furnace of his heart.
