"The room was so still that Mary could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel and the gentle whisper of Vaughn's breathing, in and out, in and out. Outside, there was the rustle of the leaves in the square and a rhythmic creak where someone had left a shutter unlatched and the wind was batting it back and forth, playing with it for its sport. "From another man," said Mary quietly, "I would have taken that as a proposal of marriage." Vaughn's fingers tightened on her shoulder. "In any other circumstance, it would have been." She could feel the movement as his head turned on the pillow, staring out towards the window. "It might still be."