Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. “Well?” she said. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face.
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