The evenings were dulcet and soft. I demand it as a right. I can’t even make myself care. “There is my aunt,” she said. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. “No, that’s fine. " O'Higgins emptied an inside pocket—and purposely let the battered photograph fall to the ground. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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