When I awoke I followed my instinct to Athena’s temple. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Anna raised her eyes.
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