A servant brought in drinks and she handed me one. ‘Is it business or pleasure that bring you to Napoli?’ she asked, raising her glass to her lips.
‘A holiday,’ I replied.
‘So you take my advice, eh?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘That day I come to see you at the Excelsior — I advise you to take a holiday. Remember?’
‘Yes, I remember,’ I answered. She’d said something else, too. ‘You told me Milan was bad for me. Why?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘In Milano it is business, always business,’ she answered evasively. ‘You work too hard.’
But I knew she hadn’t meant it like that. Milan is not good for you. She had meant it as a warning. ‘You were right, you know.’
Her brows lifted. ‘How so?’
‘That night at the Albergo Nazionale when you took my glass — you didn’t drink it, did you?’