She glanced up, greeted me, and then looked more closely. “My dear, are you ill?” I smiled and admitted that I’d slept poorly. “Not worrying still about your cousin, are you? He’s coming along famously.” “Yes, I’m so very pleased.” She said nothing more, but I knew she must think I was still grieving over the loss of my position with the Service. It was true, but it was not what had kept me awake all night. And this morning, my letters had already gone by the time I came down for breakfast, the innkeeper’s wife telling me quite proudly that she had taken them when she went to market. As Caesar had said, the die was cast. Bruce was waiting impatiently to show me what he had accomplished. “Where have you been? Look—” And he stood from his chair, held his cane at the ready, and took three steps toward me before I had to rush forward and catch him as he swayed.
