Talbert asked as he stared out the window of Juliet’s cottage, not looking for anything but just being watchful. “It is said that it will make them sour.” Talbert wasn’t even trying to mimic the manners of someone who cared, at least superficially, about how Juliet was getting on with her new life as an artist. “I didn’t know that bit of lore and, frankly, would rather not know it. I already have enough contempt for the local chauvinists,” Juliet answered. “I take it that none of them know who you are?” “I’m an artist. That’s what they know.” Talbert shrugged impatiently. “But they don’t know who you were.” “It’s irrelevant, so no. They don’t.” She was trying to get a feel for what Talbert wanted with her. So far, the man had managed to avoid coming to the point.
