"So much the worse for your theories of credibility. The longer I live, the less the Show surprises me."
"What show?"
"Oh, it's too long to explain. Say Vanity Fair." Her thumb fell into its old habit of flicking the table. There was a silence.
"I am sorry you told me," he said slowly.
"Why?"
A waiter loomed over them.
"Supper, Sir Robert?"
She glanced quickly at her companion.
"Yes," he said. "Ma buonissima! I leave it to you. And champagne."
"Prestissimo, Sir Robert." He smirked himself off.