What are you thinking?" "Just how different everything down there is now, you know, now that I can see." "Everything down there is exactly the same," he said. "You're the one that's different.

There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water; Isabelle was sitting in it, staring out across the lake. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, waiting at the top of her tower for someone to ride up and rescue her. Not that traditional princess behavior was like Isabelle at all. Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.

I know," he said, looking down at himself self-consciously. "I am not-I mean, I look-" "Beautiful," she said, and she meant it. "You look beautiful, James Carstairs.

I would rather insult you than lose you, he said, and before any of them could make a move to stop him, he cast both items into the fire.

You disappear so completely into your head sometimes," he said. "I wish I could follow you.

We are but dust and shadows.

you know this means that what we did-what we almost did in Paris-" "Going to the Eiffel Tower?