​"She was naked save for Noxzema. Swirls of iridescent, oily water caressed her thighs. Candle flames flickered, throwing uneven reflections on the tub's slick porcelain. The sound alerted her: myriads of beads clattering in the wooden curtains of her bedroom door. She slid, dripping, into a towel and moved toward her room. Her face cream cracked. He was there. Reflected in the mirror. He was stuffing a sack with jewels from her bureau. A black lace panty—hers—hung from his shirt pocket. A black lace bra—hers—dangled on the second hand of the wall clock behind him. The hand was still moving, the clock still telling time. Round and round the black bra went. She made no noise. But he glanced up..."