Chapter Fifty-Five
Violet hadn’t argued with Wintersmith on the gazebo roof, but she spent most of the rest of the night arguing with him in her head. She wouldn’t come to think him boring. He was wrong and she was right, but she couldn’t find the words to articulate why. It was a feeling, a conviction, but not one that she could defend with any real evidence. Evidence would accrue over time, and proof that she was right would come at the end, when they were old and gray-haired and sitting side by side with blankets over their knees. She’d poke his no-doubt-bony ribs with her no-doubt-bony elbow and say, See, I was right. And she was right. She knew it. But she didn’t know how to convince Wintersmith of it.
It was dawn before Violet fell asleep and past midday when she woke. She threw ba
