They gleamed at him like a promise straight from God.

How freely they moved.

Free as air; free as the sea-mew with its harsh cry wheeling close at hand under a luminous sky.
He also should be free soon, should float away past the gleaming islands, over a sea of pearl in a boat with an orange sail.
For Fay would come to him.

The one woman in the world of counterfeits would come to him, and set him free.

She would take him in her arms at last, and lay her cool healing touch upon his aching life.