Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed
and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.
It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.
I “never told my love” vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears:
