She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. He looked the boy over with interest. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose.
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