Isobel twisted her handkerchief. It was a thin, white snake in her hands.
"Was there a man, Mrs. d'Larte?" the Defense repeated.
"There was a man."
"Could you tell us his name?"
"I do not know his name. He was a man I met in the park. He was a kind and gentle man. We talked about art, music—the beautiful old art and music. He was well informed about such things. We talked a lot, but I don't know his name. We just talked."
"Were you in love with this man, or he with you?"
"No! No!"
"You definitely were not lovers?"
"We were not!"
"Thank you, Mrs. d'Larte. Your witness."