The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. 1. “Glaciers?” she said. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. “I believe so. Hastening to the church, he entered it by the very door near which his first crime had been committed.
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