Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. She looked up quickly. ” “Thanks for the nice evening, John. . "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. ” “Right!” he answered.
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