. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. We made sure it was just like Gwen. ’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. “I can tell you are thinking about it.
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