“Jenny, please, please don’t do this! Don’t suffer so. Cry, for God’s sake. Scream at me again, but don’t look at me like a murderer.” And then he knew. He knew exactly why he loved her, and when it had happened: his mind snapped back to the glade, when an angel dressed like a page had looked up at him with shining blue eyes and softly told him, The things they say about you, the things they say you’ve done—they aren’t true. I don’t believe it.
