He built her the most beautiful castle 242 in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever bloomed. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion.
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