Islington looked on the verge of laughing. Or at least his eyes did. “Are you teasing me?” I demanded. “I am. He spoke of the ten virgins.” “Ah.” I relaxed back into my chair. “And how did they end?” “The usual. Half in, half out.” “They do seem to repeat the pattern.” “They do.” “No poetry?” “Poetry, yes. But all of Hawkes’s doing. The man’s an oratory marvel.” “He is.”
