He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. I'm sorry. Of you—an angel with one wing. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. More often then not he refused to reveal specifics of his own past in Greece and Rome, choosing to relate fables and stories of an impersonal nature. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. Without her, it was lonely. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood.
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