“Dost though even know what would become of me? Thou dost not." She exhaled sharply. "Friends would disown me. It is our way. I would be alone!"
"No," he said unexpectedly. He turned and held his hand to her, palm upward, empty, a simple masculine offering. "Maddygirl. With...
me.”
―
Laura Kinsale,
Flowers from the Storm
