She will cry for days and nights together. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. “I’m not going to kill you, John. Sheppard's ward, Sir. ” “In the Middle Ages, from what you’re telling me. ” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. I do not blame you for the act.
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