Threw it out. Yet there was nothing for her to do. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. When he returned, it was always the same. . . It had been her home for hundreds of years.
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