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\" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. Then a surge of rage welled up. Gosse sneered. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. "Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves.

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