Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. Mrs.
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