“No, I didn’t want you to talk about it. It’s only that I didn’t like there being constraint—I don’t see why you should care. It’s like talking about someone who’s dead.”
“But she isn’t dead. Do you suppose, Phil—would she, do you think, like you to go back?”
“No, I’m sure she wouldn’t—at least I don’t think so.”
“Was she the kind of woman who forgets easily, who can put people out of her life just as she wants to?”
“Anna ...” His voice lingered over the name. “No, I don’t think she ever forgot. She was simply independent.”
“Would she think of your boy and want him back?”
“She might.” He suddenly stopped. “She might. That evening he was so ill she—”
Katherine looked across the fields to Pelynt Cross, dim and grey beneath the rain.
“She had a heart, then,” she said slowly.
He suddenly wheeled about with his face to Garth. He spoke sharply and roughly in a voice that she had never heard him use before.