"Well, we knew that already, didn't we?" Goneril asked, squinting--- now up-- at him. "That's the point of writing, isn't it? So we can learn more about each other when we can't see each other?"

"I told him that," he said. "I more or less told him that we were trying to be reasonable now because we were both aware that whatever else is going on, this whole thing is perforce a little rushed."

Goneril nodded. "I...well, then," she said. "What do you think we need to discuss? I don't mean that in a standoffish way. I mean that I would like you to tell me."

Faolin took a deep breath. "Promise me you won't discount anything out of hand just because your brother suggested it." He took a moment to put his thoughts in order. "Actually, it's not so much him. You said it too. I don't know what you expect of me."

Goneril grimaced, and then pursed her lips. "I don't know what I expect of you either," she said. "I've never been in this situation before. I don't know...what there is to expect, or what I can expect. On one hand, being here means that I can do things I wouldn't do at home, and know that you won't disrespect me because of it, and you won't tell the entire town and ruin my reputation. But on the other hand, I really like you. I'm really...I don't want to leave you. I want to be around you."

He gave her a fond, sad look, then raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. "Normally, this is what happens with me. I meet a woman whose company I enjoy. Usually we meet once or twice on separate occasions, possibly to see if we remember each other between times." He gave a smile, although he was not entirely joking. "It's . . . it's a lot like this. We do a lot of talking and holding hands and getting to know one another. We might make love a few times, we might not, depending. Oddly enough, the women I end up in bed with without getting to know, it usually ends up being the only thing we ever really have between us. They're usually very pleasant when we see each other again but by then we've both generally moved on to other things."

"I don't want to do that," she said hastily. "That's why I want to write. I want to remember you. I want to..." she blushed, and looked down. "I don't want to think about you with other women."

"I think that's what your brother was trying to warn me about," he said. "I told him that if you'd been a normal girl, I'd likely be the one getting my heart broken because you'd move on from me and find someone more suitable, simply because that's what people do here. But in this case, it won't happen. You've got so much more wrapped up in this than I do. And I don't like to think about that. If there was time, we might work on some way to level the field, so to speak, to make things more even. But we don't."

She looked back up st him. "What do you want from me?" she asked. "Or from this? You asked me; it seems only right that I should ask you, too."

"Normally, I'd be courting permission just to see you again," he said, a bit sad. "I realize that now. I've been . . . I've been going about this as if this were the usual sort of thing, and it's not." He touched her shoulder. "Time in your company has been its own reward. That's all I ever expected."