She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. “Women are mocked,” she said. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. "Make it known among your friends. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me.
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