“I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. The room was dark and dusty. She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife.
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