“Did she love him?”

“Yes … yes.”

“Whom, then, did she love? For a woman can love one man only.”

“She loved both.”

“That is not a possible thing: not the one deep love. It is a lie, Isla Macleod.”

“Yes, it is a lie, Sheumas Maclean.”

“Which man did she love?”

Isla slowly shook the ash from his pipe, and looked for a second or two at a momentary quiver in the sky in the north-east.

“The dawn will be here soon now, Sheumas.”