She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. “My dear Annabel,” she said, “this is delightful, but I thought that it was forbidden. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. “I didn’t think you’d come. ” “I am rebuked,” she declared. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me. Surely it was a dream. But she must not laugh.
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