I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. His voice had broken. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. You come with those clear eyes of yours, as valiant as an angel. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. She had not seen him in two and a half centuries. But if you wish to do old Wood a friendly turn, you may bring his wife. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Then, I thought, she has repented, all will be well.
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