"He was the eldest, and he was rather prone to passionate causes without practicalities," Susan says, snuggling against Lancelot and then, remembering the tea in her hands, taking a careful sip. It's perfectly adequate, and she makes a little hum of contentment before leaning her head against him. "Oh, I suppose that's rather critical of me. I only mean to say..."

She trails off, trying to sort out her thoughts.