It was… a small thing, was it not? The tiniest corner of what he was offering—impossible though it was. Could she not have this? Just this? They would go to London. He would meet someone else. He would forget her. He’d had lovers before. She knew he had. It would be one kiss among many to him. Like swords in his armoury. Boots in his cupboard. And she had given up so much for so much. This was surely close to nothing. A fleeting part of someone she had loved, in one way or another, for most of her life.
