This city is not built upon the precious stones of Revelation: we are not so pure. The scar on thy wounded hand is but one small testament to the evil of which we are capable. And so whether I am blessed to see thee tomorrow or tomorrow’s tomorrow, whether it is here or that other, blessed City to which we all aspire, I will not risk thy reputation or thy soul again while thou art wed to Thomas Deerfield. Thou meanest too much to me—far too much.
