"Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters.
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