How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone. “I do,” he answered. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. . She rested her head upon his shoulder. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight.
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