She had known for years that there was a part of her that would never release Charles Delauney. She had known that for a long time, and she had come to live with it. It was something she had to accept, like pain, like the leg he had to drag at times, or that irked him so much when the weather was cold or damp. It was a pain like the others she had learned to carry. “I don't know what to say,” she smiled sadly at him, wiping her own tears away, “after all this time, 'how are you?' seems so stupid.” It did, but what else was there to say? She had heard echoes of him from time to time, but nothing in many years now. She had known for some time that his father was ill. Her own parents had died, within months of each other, before she'd come home from Europe. But Charles knew that.

“You look incredible.” He could only stare at her. At thirty, she was even more beautiful than she'd been at eighteen when they were married. It was as though her promise had been fulfilled, and yet her eyes were still so sad. It hurt him just to see them. “Are you all right?” He meant it in a thousand ways, and as she always had before, she understood him. Eventually, they had become like one dance, one song, one movement. He would have half a thought and she could finish it without saying a word. They just knew each other so well. It was as though they were the identical halves of a single person. But no more, they were two halves now… or were they whole? He wondered as he watched her. She was expensively dressed, and the sable coat was incredible. The hat had been done for her by Lily Dache, and made quite an effect the way she wore it. She was certainly more sophisticated than she had been as a young girl. Like this, she might have frightened him then, he smiled to himself, or perhaps not appealed to him in the same way. But she didn't frighten him now, she tore at his heart, as she had for years. Why had she been so damn stubborn the last time he saw her?