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The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. " "You were born on the island?" "I believe so. Wood could stand it no longer. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd.
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