Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. His grip twisted her wrist. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. Wood. It was a haunted place.
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