Karl makes his penis disappear and pretends this is normal.
He snaps the cuff of his opera glove and gives Maragret
a saucy wink. He drops into a practised spiel: 'It is said
that the sorcerers of ancient Persia could transport
a man's most sacred treasure from one point in space,'
he flourishes his hand like a dove, 'to another, and so,
in this way, they kept the favour of sultans.'
Margaret wears an expression of horrified approval.
'Now,' says Karl, ever-consummate, 'look behind your ear.'
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