Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. “Always planning for death. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. His sister appeared. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. ” She gave herself permission now to look at this squarely. Men do not understand constancy as women do.
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