It was not lust itself he felt, but the premonition of desire, as if the wind that whipped around his cravat were whispering in his ears. /Her. Choose her./

“You're unmoved by the protestations of the rabble. When they gather outside you…”

“Never hit a man with a closed fist," he told her. He could feel her pulse."Why?…”

“the way he talked to her. It was outrageous. It was blunt. It was impossible. A…”

“Be quiet, Ash. I am trying to remember you.”In the lamplight, shadows collected…”