There was nothing of mournful bereavement about the little stone house, gay in the sunshine, with its clustering border of purple, rose and yellow flowers. The inside was dark-brown dim, but he caught a glimpse of movement. He stepped to the door, leaned with his hand on the jamb, waiting to be noticed.
"Sintaha Rowley! Good morning. Here is Tsu."
Rowley dug his nails into the door post. Tsu came out skipping, but he was unaware of her. Torl ... Torl who was dead yesterday ... smiled at him and retreated into the interior.
Tsu took his hand, brushing against him with her usual easy familiarity. He realized that his fingers trembled in her grip.
He said, hoarsely, "That was Torl ... in there!"
Tsu laughed up into his face, long eyes bright.
"Why not? It is Torl's house, too!"
"But ... but ... yesterday...." He couldn't bring himself to say that yesterday Torl had died and he had seen her buried.
Tsu seemed to divine the thought in his mind.
"Yesterday was yesterday, sintaha Rowley. Yesterday, Torl died, and you saw how it was. We hope you could make a good report of it."