And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. Above her head was an aura of white fire. The soldiers! They must not find her here. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor.
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