She lifted her face, which was, I saw, Felim’s long, narrow face and, through shifting dentures, said: Lay your head on my dark heart, your honey mouth with scent of thyme give me your hand before we part, oh love, sweet love of mine. The brother stood for this ghastly rendition with his head slightly bowed, and I said, Yes. That was him, yes. You have the look of him, alright. You think? You are very welcome here, she said. And I thought I would run screaming out of the house tearing my hair and ripping off my clothes.
