Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. ’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same.
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