Lorraine leaned over the terrace, looking down at him with blue, fathomless eyes.
"By sundown?"
"Yes."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
"Tiens ta Foy."
"Always, Lorraine."
She did not chide him; she longed to call him Jack, but it stuck in her white throat when she tried.
"If you do not come back by sundown, then I shall know you cannot," she said.
"But I shall."