“That I cannot say, since I have never met Mr. Camber.”
“And Madame de Stämer, does she share it?”
“Fully, I think. But don’t ask me what it means, because I don’t know.”
She dismissed the subject with a light gesture and poured me out a second cup of coffee.
“I am going to leave you now,” she said. “I have to justify my existence in my own eyes.”
“Must you really go?”
“I must really.”
“Then tell me something before you go.”
She gathered up the bunches of roses and looked down at me with a wistful expression.
“Yes, what is it?”