“You know,” she’d said, the last time he’d turned down such an offer, a good seven months back, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were saving yourself.” “I am,” he’d replied, somewhat testily. “From them.” “From, yeah, that’s good, that makes sense. Saving from is sensible.” Her warm gaze was both teasing and sincere. “But are you sure there’s not a bit of saving for there, too?”
