She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. Even the stars were strangers. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. You never can go back. " "How soon do you expect Mishter Vudd?" inquired the janizary, tauntingly.
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