Lord Brockhurst sniffs about the foamy waves, hungry like a wolf. Englishmen must stick together, he tells Percival. There are so many riches here at the French seashore, they are drowning in embarrassments. But Percy is a damp blanket and won’t even let himself get wet. Madame Dubonnet has spent all day trying to make his body remember. She bangs her head against the sandy dunes over and over and over again. Nobody notices but the maid, although of course she’s not at liberty to comment. How does a woman bleed when she’s spent her entire life sopping up blood? Oh how she’d push him into the water, if he’d only ever let her touch him.