’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. " He approached the bed and laid his palm on the patient's forehead, and nodded. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. Gerald grinned. “I was born there. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. \" Michelle said ruefully. Leonardo was to me perhaps like a father, not a lover as you think. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. .
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