” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. Play fair with her. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. ” He threw the stone protecting the crypt to one side. “She means to go. \" His brown eyes were tired and full of concern. “Dear husband,” she murmured. A nod was exchanged. The delay was only momentary.
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