“I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ’ The mention of Alderley’s name, as Roding had confidently expected, caused the soldiers’ eyes to veer across to the young lady again, this time with a good deal less sympathy, and much more uncertainty. But it is the truth. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. The lines about his mouth gradually softened. ” He returned to and developed that idea.
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