“Are you really going, Io?”
“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Say that, for one reason”—he smiled faintly, but resolutely—“The Patriot needs your guiding inspiration.”
“All The Patriot’s troubles are over. It’s plain sailing now.”
“What of The Patriot’s editor?”
“Quite able to take care of himself.”
Into his voice there suffused the first ring of anger that she had ever heard from him; cold and formidable. “That won’t do, Io. Why?”
“Because I choose.”
“A child’s answer. Why?”
“Do you want to be flattered?” She raised to his, eyes that danced with an impish and perverse light. “Call it escape, if you wish.”