Una knows the story well, of course—she has even read the version of it that will be published in a collection of stories in another time-stream, in another age. And so while she seems to be listening to Jagged, she is really watching Dorian—seeing where he laughs and where he frowns (and she has to admit, Christia's decision to appear as a girl of fourteen has always troubled her, even if she understands how it was meant to elicit the greatest possible anguish from Werther). As Jagged's tale winds to a close, she thinks she sees an odd expression pass across Dorian's face, one that she can't quite interpret, but which she suspects indicates some deep perturbation, touching deeply on some hidden aspect of his psyche.

But when he addresses her, she laughs brightly, as if she hadn't been examining every shift of expression, and takes a sip of her tea.

"In truth? I think he may well be altered, though I think he won't understand it himself, and may not even truly perceive it. Werther's looking-glass has always been and ever shall be a Claude glass. Nevertheless, I can only imagine such an adventure has changed him. No one can remain unchanged by the experience of confronting death and believing it to be final. But it may be a very long time before he realises the nature of the alteration."

Jagged chuckles. "Mrs Persson understands us well," he says. He sets down his tea-cup. "However, my dear lady, I should say that your assessment is one that may be generally applied! Who amongst us truly recognises that moment when our souls have truly altered? It is a change in the pattern of our lives that only becomes clear when we can at last step back and see where the colours shifted."

There's a flicker of Una's grey eyes in Dorian's direction as she realises, whilst Jagged is in full flow, exactly what he is saying, and to whom. Oh damn. She hadn't intended the conversation to bend that way, not at all.