“Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. . As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. ” He woke the glassy water to swirling activity again, and made the deep-blue shapes below writhe and shiver. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion.
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