“Oh, ‘Liza . . .” Again, he sighed. “I have no wish to quarrel. Not with you.” Clues to the heart he kept locked away were the little phrases that fell from his lips—phrases where, when twisted, sounded as if cared for me as more than a friend. Not with you. As if I were an exception—a gemstone so valuable and rare that he never handled it for fear of tarnishing it.
