Waiting alone in the midst of her uncle’s grotesque curios, with the eternal rank odour of decay wafting in from outside, the frightened girl thought once more of tall Trader Juliette, the bold bandito who had been so gentle in her arms. He was now, according to her horoscope, away again on safari.
   It was then that came the thud of fists, a muffled cry, fighting on the stairway, and she dropped the brimming wine glass heedlessly on the rug. He was here! “There’s only ever been you, Diaphanous One!” he murmured in the outwardly-rough manner she had grown to love.
   At that moment he once again began to woo her with the sensual voice of his Stradivarius, and as he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share, she started to think about what they would call their children.