14 August 1942
My son is meeting with Lavinia Scalara. In the Leaky Cauldron. I’d start laying bets on how soon it takes him to call her a whore to her face, but of course that would be his death sentence with Kyteler and, as we all know, a figurative death sentence with Kyteler could always lead to an actual one. I’d warn him not to, of course, but he wouldn’t listen. Ari’s never been much for common sense.
I ought to warn him anyway, even if he won’t listen. There’s always the chance that he may. Who know, maybe if he’s polite to her she’ll introduce him to a nice girl. Or boy. One that if he’s really lucky with get along with our Hyacinthe.
And pigs fly. Outside the Bois, I mean.
I ought to warn him anyway, even if he won’t listen. There’s always the chance that he may. Who know, maybe if he’s polite to her she’ll introduce him to a nice girl. Or boy. One that if he’s really lucky with get along with our Hyacinthe.
And pigs fly. Outside the Bois, I mean.