For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice. Hers were less noble, yet stately. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that.
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