” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. “But your hair,” he gasped. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. I'm crazy over music, too.
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