The Last Illusion. Diana Hamilton
willing to talk. Perhaps even to think things through. Come, let us walk.’
She had no clear idea of where they were going and only the haziest notion of why she was still at his side as they slipped from one narrow street to another. The only thing she knew for sure was that to do as he said in this respect was easier than picking a fight. He was quite capable of forcing her to go with him.
But even he wasn’t capable of forcing her to ‘think things through’—as he kept suggesting. He might be able to control her physical movements for the next month, but he couldn’t control what was going on inside her head. And why should she dredge up the past, with all its grief and pain? It was over, and thinking of what had happened, and why it had happened, would be pointless.
Only when they emerged into the brilliant sunlight did she stop grumbling away inside her head. They had come to the Campo del Sur, the broad walkway on the city’s southern limits, the blue waters of the Atlantic washing against white stones and, looming above them, the awesome Baroque block of the cathedral, its golden dome glittering in the white light reflected from the whitewashed buildings.
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