“You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. She twisted her fingers tightly. “Yes. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. It drives one mad at times. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. ” She shook her fist ceilingward.
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