” Chapter XV A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE Anna looked about her admiringly. Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. I am your servitor. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. Certainly not a gentlewoman. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound.
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