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The lush green grass grew so soft that it practically begged to be crushed under bare feet, and her dress was tugged by a wind that blew refreshingly on the warm spring night, carrying the fresh smells of lively earth through the tender air. Beyond the regal crown of the swaying trees that grew in a halo around the field, the sky hung like a bolt of velvet cloth above her head, inky and mysterious and content, all at once, and coated with a veil of bright glimmering stars all vying for attention.Eric stood under the heavy stone archway at the entrance to the field, upon which a carved faun, Pan, god of fields, stared restlessly down at all who would enter. Dusting off his coat and leaning against the stone, he watched her from the shadowy gated area as she skipped back and forth, her little candles spread in shimmering circles about her. Their tiny flames seemed to mirror the stars above as she moved between them, tending to her garden of lights. He lingered patiently, his mind. "Any sensible person would think it unfair. Mrs. Ascot had the courage todo something about it. Everyone, in a time of war, must takeresponsibility for the good of their country. Those who shirkresponsibility during war must make up for it afterwards. Wouldn't youagree with that sentiment?" That sounds right Mummy." But Mrs. Ascot was cleverer than she first appears. She thought thatpeople who didn't fight had to make up for it in a special way. These menwere evidently far too cowardly to fight, and you have to remember thatit was after the war; there was nobody left to fight! Still, think of itthis way; how would you describe a man? A good man? What characteristicswould he have?" He would be kind," Elizabeth answered, confidently."And?" Strong." Of course," Mrs. Cooper said, nodding along."And brave. And a lot else." You have just painted a rather fine picture," her Mother replied. Shetook her daughter's hand in her own and tenderly began to stroke it withher thumb. "And Mrs. Ascot.
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