’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. I had that coming. A brief description will suffice for them.
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