It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. I’ve seen him, and he doesn’t a bit understand. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “You could have told me about it, Michelle. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. Annabel, I was lying. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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