Cuthbert tapped his chest above his heart and kissed his palm in the universal gesture of good luck. “I expected ye an hour ago,” Aunt Cord said. “Why you all wropped up in cobwebbies, sai?”“Get out of here, ye impudent cull!” Aunt Cord cried. Now, as morning’s light brightened toward ten o’ the clock, she sat in the same chair, looking out at nothing.
“There’ll be nothing to tie you to us. “Cry your pardon, for I know you’ll not want to hear it, but I’d speak a further word about the pigeons,” Cuthbert said as they saddled their mounts. Now, thanks to the trollop of a girl and her boy lover, Rhea was too angry to summon the smooth concentration needed to part the pink fog which swirled inside the ball. Everyone else in the room followed suit; crystal gleamed like starpoints in the light of the chandelier.
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