It made him look distinguished.It was his trademark. You have knownmen, as have I, who shaved their beards, and you barely noticed. NotPhillip. His be...rd was like Freud's. You could not imagine him without it.And it wasn't that the way he carried himself had vanished, too.. This wasno longer a graceful man with a aristocrat's bearing. This was a damagedman, a broken man. His eyes were on the floor. His shoulders were slumped.He was drawn, weak. It was as if he was shell-shocked, as if he had. She turned, flounced her skirts and came towards me. I admired her as she came. Susanna and I had been engaged in some subtle flirtation and I was looking forward to whatever evening would finally find us in bed together. In the meantime, I was enjoying the interaction between the two youngsters, both of whom were barely out of their teens. ‘More wine, Bridget?’ Susanna asked. I held out my glass and she leaned over to fill it. I, having no qualms about flirting back, took the opportunity to. More

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