Secret Desires of a Gentleman

Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me.

“So kissing me is stupid? Is that what you mean?”

“It’s more than stupid.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s insane. You make me do things that go against my honor, against my reason, even against my will.”

“Make you?” she echoed in disbelief. “Of all the absurd, unfair—” She broke off, spluttering with anger, and it was several moments before she could speak again. “I didn’t make you kiss me! I was just standing here!”

“Whatever you do, it makes me insane.”

There was no point in bemoaning the unfairness of life. It was best to just get on with things.

There were oak cupboards, two full walls of them, with shelves, drawers and bins of every imaginable shape and size

shade known as yallery-greenery

She could see from the window wells set in the concrete of the sidewalk that the kitchen was in the basement.

There were enormous plate-glass windows on both streets, and the entrance, set at an angle to the corner, boasted a door with glass panels.

By the Embankment below, she stirred, bringing his attention back to the present, and he watched as she turned away from the river.