"But we cannot always get what we want," Molokov said in Russian, his head ringing too much to remember his English. In truth, he was wishing more than a little that he had seen through her, that he had never met her but well - there was nothing to do but endure what she gave him.

And he would, he was determined to. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of breaking on top of all the other humiliations she had piled on.

He could last. Couldn't he?