[Rosalind has steeled herself to so many cruelties, great and small, that meeting Elizabeth's fear and questioning with impassive quiet comes with a thoughtless, seamless ease. She releases her slowly and folds her hands in front of herself, holding the same cool eye contact that has won more staring contests than she cares to count.]

I have seen you in numberless worlds, with numberless variables strewn among the constants. What will it help you to know those stories?

[She might tell her, of her own accord. But she is bound by duty to Robert, and by a promise to the girl herself.]