I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. But the lady was not so easily won; and though she did not absolutely reject him, gave him very slight hopes. Father— dead. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms.
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