“He smiled at her: he simply couldn't help himself. He was so glad she'd wandered into his house to kill him.”

“He couldn't be dead. Not from the dagger, or those dozen pirates, or from the catapult. No, Sam couldn't be so stupid that he'd get himself killed. She'd... she'd... Well she'd kill him if he was dead.”

“When she looked at him now, she couldn't help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.”

“As I smiled and followed him to where he had set up watch, I couldn't help thinking that this boy - this helpful, friendly, genuinely nice human being - was probably going to get me killed.”

“He couldn't keep his eyes off her face, wished she'd take off those damned sunglasses so he could see the eyes he'd known so well.”

“But he didn't need to seek visual confirmation of what he'd just heard to know she had. And the truth was, he couldn't blame her. He'd not have let her die, either. He'd have moved mountains. He'd have battled God or Devil for his wife's life. She'd betrayed him. He smiled faintly.”