She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. I’m too young 117 for this to sound right. After all, that was life. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed.
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