For just a moment, she recalls the brief glimpse she'd gotten of him before her instinctive, silly reaction; the way he'd looked stretched out in the sun and completely at ease. He really didn't have anything to be ashamed of. The fault, as always, had all been hers--growing flustered and snappish at first and belaboring the point for far too long after.

"Then if you're not upset by it, I won't be either," she says, laughing softly. "I'll try, at the very least."