Now, from somewhere, she was gazing downward.

Roofs, domes and towers lay stretched before her, emerging from a sea of shadows.

She held out her arms towards them and the tears came to her eyes.

The poor tired people were calling to her to join with him to help them.

Should she fail them--turn deaf ears to the myriad because of pity for one useless, feeble life?
She had been fashioned to be his helpmate, as surely as if she had been made of the same bone.