” He was dressed in his uniform of a Polo shirt and twill pants. good, miss. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. .
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