She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. He just seemed to have no interest, consumed with the hunt or his newfound friend, Sebastianus, who supposedly would enable him to expand his political ties to Rome. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. It was empty.
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