This was nonsense, he thought. The need of her was a physical thing, like the thirsty of a sailor becalmed for weeks on the sea. He'd felt the need before, often, often, in their years apart. But why now? She was safe; he knew where she was - was it only the exhaustion of the past weeks and days, or perhaps the weakness of creeping age that made his bones ache, as though she had in fact been torn from his body, as God had made Eve from Adam's rib?

Ye werena the first lass I kissed," he said softly. "But I swear you'll be the last.

I can bear pain myself, he said softly, but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.

I'm afraid that my wife picked up a number of colorful expressions from the Yanks and such, Frank offered, with a nervous smile. True, I said, gritting my teeth as I wrapped a water-soaked napkin about my hand. Men tend to be very colorful when you're picking shrapnel out of them.

It would ha' been a good deal easier, if ye'd only been a witch.

Knowing that everything is possible suddenly nothing is necessary.

He's a man...and that's no small thing to be.