He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. Morality is a point of view. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. He was looking pale and ill. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. “I love you, Ann Veronica. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. His manner was deferential, even eager.
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