I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. 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 said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. .
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