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Finally, a vision came to her of John throwing a stone at her window, willing her to come down and meet him. That would be a dream! She would run to him, tell him everything, and they would go to France that very night.
There was nothing that Margaret longed for more. This thought was so comforting that Margaret did find that she drifted off and could not remember what happened between then and the next morning when Jane entered carrying tea.
“Did you manage to sleep?”
“I did.”
“How are you feeling?”
Margaret massaged her temples. “I am all right, all things considered. But I am still afraid.”
“You needn’t be.” Jane placed a hand upon Margaret’s shoulder. “You will survive this, Margaret. Perhaps… you will even thrive.”
She was unsure how Jane could say such a thing, but what else was there to say in light of such horrific dealings?
