Jenny: The African Limes

Master Lucius finally abandoned the attempt. Coming back around, he said, "That is delightful. Simply delightful. Your father sings hymns? Gwenhywfar does the same. And you - you must do likewise. But how wonderful to hear that on the edge of the world, such good things are being proclaimed! I will think of him in my prayers. He must be very lonesome."

He was about to go on when Cu gave a welcoming bark. It came to his attention that it was getting late, and that the Guttersnipe had not called them to their little breakfast and then packed them up on their horses. But that quite left his mind when he saw the Guttersnipe coming back to them across the lawn, glancing in and out of the light-and-shadow, and he wondered if there was an end to her changes.

It was Gwenhywfar's doing, he reflected, and yet it was all the Guttersnipe. She glided across to them, suddenly unlike the sharp-tongued, bright-eyed girl she had been the previous night who stood hands on hips, talking about boxing people's ears. There was a doe-like softness to her movements, and sort of reserved and prancing lightness to her step. She sparkled - she was fairly radiant. One could not believe, looking at her now, that she could be such a furious little fighting cock as she could. He could just see her now, if he let Euripides have free rein, with Gwenhywfar, decked out as she was in her fine leopard-skin gown. Somehow he found himself on his feet.

She stopped before them; the amber earrings swung gently from her movements. "Well," she murmured in that cat-like purr he knew so well. "Good morning, both of you. Did you sleep all right? The dew was biting-cold..."