"I understand. Sientese." She gestures casually toward the portion of
the sofa sweeping along the right-hand wall. Raman takes a seat, and Sarabande 
crosses her long, gold-clad legs. The movement is nothing if not elegant. 
Perhaps she planned it that way. "I have someone new for you to meet. I think
you’ll like her. She’s just arrived from Sâo Paulo."