He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me.
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