Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. I am betrothed to Captain Roding, which is why you can’t have him, you see. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. . ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing. He was painfully in earnest, too. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. She met him by the dugout after the game. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded.
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