‘You are not a servant to me,’ I said quietly. ‘I never think of you that way.’ ‘Then what am I? I am not a wife,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘In my heart, you are,’ I said miserably. It was a pitiful comfort to offer her. It shamed me that she accepted it, and came to rest her forehead on my shoulder. I held her gently for a few moments, then pulled her into a warmer embrace. As she nestled against me,
