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not say that to her.
    “The older I get, the more I care,” he said. And that was definitely honest. Yesterday he had not cared enough. Today, as far as she was concerned, and perhaps Finbar, and Isla Bailey, even Bretherton, yes, he cared. Bailey’s cruelty angered him. Charles didn’t know them at all, but he wanted Isla to be able to keep her home. He felt for Bretherton’s hopeless affection for her.
    “But you’re not so very old,” she pointed out. “So maybe you are going to care a lot more yet?” She said it as if to comfort him, as if it were a happy new thought.
    He was a great deal less sure about that, but he did not argue. They walked the rest of the way mostly in companionable silence, with just the occasional observation about a plant or the ever-changing view. Twice more, they noticed a plume of smoke or steam rise from the mountain and cast a momentary shadow across the land.
    Sunset was a glory of hot color staining the sky across the west. They stood side by side watching it, both knowing that the darkness would come swiftly after, and they would have trouble picking their way over the uneven ground. It did not matter. Charles said nothing. He was certain in his own mind that Candace felt exactly as he did. This particular sunset would never happen again. There would not be exactly this banner of fire across the sky, quite such a delicate breath of turquoise above the cloud, like some ancient enamel, green, tender with age. The last colors would come in the same places, but perhaps the indigo of night would be somehow different.
    When they moved on Candace turned to look at him once. He was certain she was smiling, but he could no longer see her face.

    D inner was excellent. Stefano had spent a good deal of the afternoon preparing baked fish for them, and arranged it with artistry on a large platter. It was decorated with winter vegetables, including potatoes baked and crisped so the edges were a delicate golden brown.
    They were all gathered, except Walker-Bailey.
    Everyone was uncomfortable.
    “Where the devil is the man?” Bretherton said under his breath to Charles. He looked at Isla, who had taken some care with her appearance, especially her hair, which was curled and dressed up on her head. She was wearing a soft muslin dress in a shade of pastel blue that was most flattering to her particular kind of beauty. His admiration was too plain for Charles to miss.
    “I’ve no idea,” Charles confessed. “I went up the mountain and I saw no sign of him there.”
    “One is tempted to hope that the damn fool fell into the sea,” Bretherton said bitterly. “But unless he were washed up on the shore, we would never know.” He colored a little uncomfortably at his own outspokenness. It was tactless, although possibly no one would be surprised.
    Quinn was also less than composed about it. He clearly saw no reason why he should not express his annoyance.
    “For heaven’s sake, what is the matter with the man?” he demanded of no one in particular. “Even if he forgot his watch, the sunset is plain enough! Any fool can tell roughly how long it is until sundown. He knows what time we eat!”
    “I think we should ignore it,” Finbar said wearily. He looked tired, and Charles felt a pang of concern for him. He was the oldest person here by several years. The fact that he walked considerable distances did not mean he felt no exhaustion, or that he did not require a certain degree of regularity in mealtimes.
    Candace was also dressed in a pale muslin, but of a much less sophisticated cut than Isla’s. She looked curiously at Finbar, then at Charles, but it was Isla she spoke to.
    “Mrs. Bailey, I don’t wish to be discourteous, but would you mind if we begin to eat while Stefano’s food is fresh and looking so delicious? I think it is a way of thanking him that he would appreciate. He goes to a lot of care to make our food exceptional.”
    Isla seemed to be relieved. “Yes, of course we