Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. She had killed him. Right now my heart is occupied. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. That is I saw her. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. Sheppard, faintly. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters.
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