CHAPTER 172

"THIS PLACE IS so quiet," Alice said from the window. "Nothing. Not even the sound of crickets."

Vladimir nodded. "If you were a cricket, would go stay anywhere near someone like you?"

Alice chuckled. "I guess not." She walked away from the window and gazed at large picture paintings that showed Vlsdimir through the years. On some oil paintings, he had curled blonde hair, similar to those the elegant English men of the early 19th century wore, on others, he was bald, with a mustache, clean-shaven. His looks varied like seasons of the year. "I like this one more," Alice said, pointing at a large and prominent painting. It was one of Vladimir in the 16th century. "The linen suits you..."

"They don't tell you this, but the linen of those times was very uncomfortable," Vladimir muttered. "It cuffed your neck and gave you callouses." He came up behind her and sniffed her neck.

"I like the sideburns too," Alice said. She turned. Their bodies were a few inches apart. Her fingers came up to