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Bizarrely, perhaps, I have gotten to know Jeffrey and Ghislaine far better after my piece than before it. I kept running into both of them, separately, at parties. Jeffrey is not a social animal so he usually has a couple of young women with him who stand two feet behind him, as if serving a monarch. "Do they speak?" I remember asking him once, nodding at his lookalike blondes. He laughed. "Not like you, Vicky," was his riposte.

I remembered that when we'd once discussed math—in particular, an isosceles triangle—and I revealed I hadn't studied math since I was 14 (such is, or was, the way of the British educational system), I received a package at home via messenger. It was a book: "Math for idiots."

So he is not without humor, even though he doesn't drink or smoke, and hates restaurants.

"Jeffrey knows a good deal about most subjects," newspaper publisher Mort Zuckerman told me last week. He was certainly preaching to the converted. The truth is, Epstein does know a lot about a lot of things. Just a few moments in his company and you know this to be true.

When I saw pictures of Prince Andrew walking in Central Park with Jeffrey, my immediate thought was that "Andy"—as Jeffrey calls him—is probably asking for help with his role as British trade envoy, or whatever his strange title is. Because if one thing's for sure: When it comes to international business, Jeffrey knows what he's talking about far more than "Andy" does. Which is why Leon Black, Mort Zuckerman and a few other financiers hang out with him.

And Ghislaine?

Full disclosure: I like her. Most people in New York do. It's almost impossible not to.

She is always the most interesting, the most vivacious, the most unusual person in any room. I've spent hours talking to her about the third world at a bar until 2am. She is as passionate as she is knowledgeable. She is curious. She has spent weeks at the bottom of the ocean, literally going deeper than anyone else. She has sent me a DVD of the fish there. Her rolodex would blow away almost anyone else's I can think of—probably even Rupert Murdochs'. She is very well-read and can talk about most things for hours. She is passionate about Bill Clinton with whom she is close friends.

Yet, touchingly, when she had to give a speech at the 40th birthday party of her best friend, Ariadne Calvo-Platero, (known fondly to her close friends as "the Tennis Goddess") Ghislaine shook a little with nerves. When it comes down to things she really cares about—and Ariadne is one of them—Ghislaine shows her vulnerability.
And that vulnerability is key to understanding her friendship with Jeffrey.

"He saved her," I remember a close friend of mine telling me. "When her father died, she was a wreck; inconsolable. And then Jeffrey took her in. She's never forgotten that—and never will."

In many ways, the socially awkward Epstein with his big house, plane, island and ranch was the perfect replacement for her father, the late Robert Maxwell, newspaper tycoon and criminal. Sure, Jeffrey had his sexual pecadillos, but then Ghislaine's father was not without his oddities. After all, it was he who died leaving a massive "black hole” he'd fraudulently created. To Ghislaine, Jeffrey's habits may not have seemed that strange.

In fact, she probably figured, rather like I have, after years of writing about he very rich, that most successful people in the end either have some weird habit (the late Bruce Wasserstein had the weight issues, the girl issues, and moved countries to avoid paying tax), or they break the law (Sam Waksal, Martha Stewart.) You don't tend to get to the top by being the world's most balanced human being. Even the folksy Warren Buffett didn't quite manage a normal life—whatever that is. He had a second "wife" for many years whose existence he has been open about.

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