[She had let her hand slip out of his when he stood, and now she folds it into tunic, on her lap. A child's urge almost overcomes her - to tell him not to leave, to stay, just for the night - but she smothers it down hard and fast.]

... I won't deny him his chance, if you wish to grant it to him. -Her voice is also quiet.] Even if - it is not something I can do, I... trust you.

[She had to, or her shoulder would not be bare now, growing cold.]