“That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. I will do anything and everything I can to become your equal. Sheppard. He was now almost driven to despair. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done.
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