Howard can walk you to your car.”

I looked past him into the ballroom.

The chandeliers were still lit, and nobody had cleared the plates.

“Clare asked me to stay.”

“Clare is thirty years old, and she’s had a long day.” His voice carried as far as the coat check.

“You’ve done your damage.

Now you go.”

His signet ring was turned around, the gold face pressed inward against his palm.