She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Lucy turned and faced the strawberry blonde behind her, gesturing rapidly with a folded origami triangle, evidently the newest form of note. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. “Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking.
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