She pecked him on the cheek, a gesture probably at odds with her nature and her history.
And once she had found her key she looked at him, a teasing glint in her eye, and said:
“So we’ll go no more a-raving so late into the night. Though the heart be something something. Oh fuck, I forget.”
“Though the heart be still as loving, and the moon be still as bright.”
“Yes, that’s it. Thank you, Freddie.”
He watched her up the steps. Some remnant of gentlemanly code telling him that he had not seen a lady safely home until the door had closed behind her.
The key turned in the lock. She turned to him. Almost gone but not gone.
“I know everything,” she said.
And then she was gone.
It was the second time she’d said that. He still didn’t know what she meant by it.