'Then why are you here?' Constance could hear the note of irritation, of regret, in her tone. There was her temper; and yet her temper came from a feeling of being wounded, of rejection, of something she never wanted to feel.
'To see if there is something here.'
'And?' snapped Constance. She felt ready to cry and scream at once; she was too hot, the moment too heady…
'I didn't break with Serge because of you. It was him, and it was me; we didn't work.' Imogen's finger moved to the point of Constance's wrist. 'You have always captivated me.'