Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. . She could not stir hand or foot. My people don’t know what to do. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet.
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