The moment of silence that followed was extraordinary in its hostility.
“Oh, we shall run across one another again some time,” said Aaron.
“Sure,” said Lilly. “More than that: I'll write you an address that will always find me. And when you write I will answer you.”
He took a bit of paper and scribbled an address. Aaron folded it and put it into his waistcoat pocket. It was an Italian address.
“But how can I live in Italy?” he said. “You can shift about. I'm tied to a job.”
“You—with your budding rod, your flute—and your charm—you can always do as you like.”
“My what?”
“Your flute and your charm.”
“What charm?”
“Just your own. Don't pretend you don't know you've got it. I don't really like charm myself; too much of a trick about it. But whether or not, you've got it.”