"Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. “I know. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. ” After all, it was not so easy. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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