dening. They oppressed her, and yet a strange burden of beauty lay on the high-walled room, emanating from the figures disposed about it: Gran and Boney; Nicholas at the piano; Meg, all feminine curves and heavy sweetness; Piers and Eden playing cribbage; Sasha, curled on the mantelpiece.
"I must not get to care for you," Renny said, in a muffled voice. "Nor you for me. It would make an impossible situation."
"Yes," murmured Alayne, "it would be impossible."
