Columbine did the serving, and most all of the talking.

Wade felt strangely at ease.

Some subtle difference was at work in him, transforming him, but the moment had not yet come for him to question himself.

He enjoyed the supper.

And when he ventured to look up at Columbine, to see her strong, capable hands and her warm, blue glance, glad for his presence, sweetly expressive of their common secret and darker with a shadow of meaning beyond her power to guess, then Wade felt havoc within him, the strife and pain and joy of the truth he never could reveal.