She turned her face away from him as she spoke because she was blushing.
“How old are you?” Lindon asked quietly.
There was a pause.
“I have always been – told that it is – considered rude to ask a lady’s age,” Mena answered. “Anyway women are always as young as they look and as old as they feel.”
Lindon laughed.
Then he said,
“You are being very evasive and I find it frustrating.”
“I cannot think why,” Mena replied, “and we can always talk about horses, a subject that we are both deeply interested in.”
“But they are not as interesting as you,” Lindon said quietly. “I was thinking about you last night before I went to sleep and it seems extraordinary that you should have dropped down out of the sky, that you look like a Goddess, are interested in Greece as only a Goddess could be a
