The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing.
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