"Friday night?" he said, turning on his smile again.With a nod of my head I agreed, then we walked back to the rest of theparty where I gave him my card, writing my home address on the back.As he drifted away I saw Bill staring at me, his face screwed intowhat seemed to be a rueful resignation of what we both knew washappening. Bill took me home later that afternoon, dropping me off atmy door without so much as a peck on the cheek. I went inside and shutthe door, locking it as I headed for my bedroom. My mind was tossingall of my feelings about like a small ball, so I went in the showerand just stood there, letting the hot water beat on me as I tried towash away my regret at what had happened between Bill and I.I made a small dinner and for the first time in a very long time I saton the couch and sulked. Bill was my friend, and while he had been theone to start me on this path, I had also hoped that he would be thereto help me in the hard times, when I was filled with doubt. That. “I hope you like scrambled eggs Mr. Ramage,” the Prince said as he seated himself.David studied him as he sat down. He judged the Prince to be in his early forties, roughly six feet tall, with a lean body clad in a linen suit beautifully tailored to fit his body. He noticed the Prince, like himself, wore a soft turned down collar rather than the more formal, stiff bat-winged collar favoured by most of the senior politicians and men of means he had met in India.He smiled to himself seeing the Oxford tie. However, the most striking feature of the man was his face and eyes. He wore a short pointed beard and a thin moustache with a lean hawkish nose and his eyes were almost black below thick eyebrows. It was, David concluded, a face of intelligence and power. A trained and experienced observer, David, took this all in in a glance.“So Mr. Ramage, I see you batted for the other team,” he chuckled, indicating David’s Cambridge tie.“I’m afraid so, sir,” he replied adjusting his serviette.They.
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