” Part 4 They lay side by side in a shallow nest of turf and mosses among bowlders and stunted bushes on a high rock, and watched the day sky deepen to evening between the vast precipices overhead and looked over the tree-tops down the widening gorge. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. ‘Oh, peste. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. Glad you're home safe. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. But this was a vicomte’s sister. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork.
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