He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. Sebastian knew a dozen languages and could speak them fluently, plus he had an aptitude for numbers that Gianfrancesco did not. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad.
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