Why do you tell me… so much?”
Luthe considered her. “I tell you… some you need to know, and some you have earned the right to know, and some it won’t hurt you to know–” He stopped….

“Some things I tell you only because I wish to tell them to you.

…and again she wished for Sherwood, and the dappled roof of leaves that never weighed upon her. She pulled her scarf closer around her and thought, I would rather live in a hut in the woods; a hut like the one of my first memories, with a clean-swept dirt floor, and a brown-eyed boy watching me from behind his mother’s skirts as I watched him from behind mine.

The chain round my neck gleamed in the daylight too. It looked more like gold this morning, but if I stirred it with a finger it had a queer iridescent quality not at all like real gold, not that I had much acquaintance with the stuff. I had always favored plastic and rhinestones.

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