Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. “Thank you. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. Imbecile.
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