Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. As for loving you, I do.
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