colours of the sky—“did you mean it?” She should have said something frivolous. Something to make them both laugh. Something to break this moment. “Of course.” “Because I need to tell you, Miss Carroll, that I like you too. I like your quick mind and your kind heart and your bold spirit. You make me think as I had forgotten I could and laugh as I thought I never would again.” “I… I…” Oh God, what was she to do? She had to stop this. But she couldn’t. She yearned for it too badly: so much she’d never dared want, now falling into her hands, as effortless as blossom in spring. “I know,” he went
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