‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Jonathan laughed scornfully. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment.
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