Don Juan didn't think this was a fair lecture at all, under the circumstances. He had hardly left Elfie bare to the world, unless this woman was planning on immediately going and telling the world. He'd stepped back because he was startled — quite fairly. How was he supposed to have known they might be interrupted? What ought he to have done, kept his wand in hand while he had his tongue between her legs so that he was ready to stupefy intruders at a moment's notice?

But it didn't matter what she thought of him; the material thing was that she was angry with Elfrieda, and she was leaving. On the one hand it was good for her to go, because he and Elfie needed to talk about this — on the other hand, there was much better moods in which she might have been leaving the conversation.

He turned to Elfie and reached for her hands, pulling her towards him, and lowered his voice. "Who will she tell?" he asked urgently. "How long do we have?"

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