"My sight is failing me. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. " Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. Then a ride to London on horseback. Can’t face a scandal. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you.
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