Unformatted text preview: dark to that house, climbed the wall, and gone up, hand over hand on the trellis. So easy to climb so high, to swing out and stare down at the flags. The flags on which poor Antha died. But that had been yet to come, all that, those horrible deaths-Stella, Antha. It would always be pleasant to remember the thick green vine and the softness of it under her slipper as she climbed. "Ah, ChSrie," he said. "My delight, my wild thing," and he raised the window to receive her, to bring her inside. "Afow Dieu, child, you could have fallen." "Never," she whispered. Safe in his arms. Even Richard Llewellyn, that boy he kept, didn't come between them. Richard knew to knock on Julien's door, and one was never sure what Richard Llewellyn knew, really. Years ago Richard Llewellyn had talked to that last Talamasca man, though Evelyn had warned him not to. Richard had come up to see her the next day. "Well, you didn't tell him about me, did you?" Ancient Evelyn had demanded....
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10