‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. She could not see clearly. Don’t be late if you can help it. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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