"I see you have given a summation of events sorely lacking in detail," Aramis tells Porthos darkly, leaving him to take possession of the armchair. He pulls down both blankets draped over the back of it, not speaking again until he has formed a cocoon.

"It was Bikram class," he tells Athos. "Hotter than a summer's day at noon, with air so wet you could swim in it. Better men than I have fainted under such conditions."

And if none did that day save him, not even the slim shouldered women, Aramis does not mention it. "I was not dressed for the occasion."