Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. "I've waited supper, you perceive. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. “You can keep him at arm’s length. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. Her English was halting. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said.
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