...well, If Women's Work Was Never Done,

Really Rather Fascinating, You Know,' He Confided, And I Recognized, With An Internal Sigh, The Song Of The Scholar, As Identifying A Sound As The Terr-whit! Of A Thrush.

Am I A Man? To Want You So Badly That Nothing Else Matters? To See You, And Know I Would Sacrifice Honor Or Family Or Life Itself To Lie Wi' You, Even Though Ye'd Left Me?

Conflict And Character Are The Heart Of Good Fiction, And Good Mystery Has Both Of Those In Spades.

I Meant It, Claire,' He Said Quietly. 'my Life Is Yours. And It's Yours To Decide What We Shall Do, Where We Go Next. To France, To Italy, Even Back To Scotland. My Heart Has Been Yours Since First I Saw Ye, And You've Held My Soul And Body Between Your Two Hands Here, And Kept Them Safe. We Shall Go As Ye Say.

Lord, Ye Gave Me A Rare Woman, And God! I Loved Her Well.