In the night, for a long time to come, James thought of jasmine and woodsmoke, the press of her arm, fathomless dark eyes gazing into his. “ ‘ The secret path he eager chose, where Layla’s distant mansion rose; he kissed the door. A thousand wings increased his pace, whence, his fond devotions paid, a thousand thorns his course delayed. No rest he found by day or night—Layla, forever, in his sight.’ ”
