There are reasons, just now, why romance is unlikely. John’s precipitous return is connected to rumors that, back in Philadelphia, he’s left a girl pregnant. He himself thinks he’s probably not responsible, but a considerable sum of money was required to persuade the girl to share his doubts.

Edwin is suffering from the clap.

Of course, Asia knows none of that. She has the most wonderful brothers!

—

One train ride and another and then they board the trim little steamer Our Lady of the Lake. Asia and Jean see their luggage into their stateroom before joining the boys at the railing. A small gull lands briefly near them, looks at them with one red eye, turns its head to see if they improve from that perspective. There are several passengers on the deck, but Asia is determined to pretend that it’s only the four of them and she mostly gets her wish. She cordons off their little party with a barricade of icy politeness. She’s gifted at icy politeness.

The boat moves like a dream over the calm waters of Lake Ontario while the sun sets and the stars rise. Asia feels as if she’s suspended in place, floating in air as well as on water, as if she’s the one still object in a spinning world. She can’t remember ever being happier.

She moves closer to Edwin, tucks one hand under his arm. Her fingers are warm; the air is cool. The sky glitters above and also on the lake, the points of light reflecting on the black water in streaks like comets. She’s left her hat in the stateroom and talked Jean into doing the same. Her bare head makes her feel girlish, and Jean’s brown hair is escaping her knot in fetching curls.

“What a sky,” Jean says. “Stars thick as bees.”

John looks upward. “ ‘Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my deep and black desires,’ ” he says. Is he flirting? Asia can’t be sure. Probably she’s letting her hopes overrule her good sense. Even John wouldn’t use Macbeth for a flirt.

“Black and deep,” Edwin corrects him. “My black and deep desires.” John says nothing. Edwin clears his throat. “ ‘It is the stars. The stars above us govern our conditions.’ ” This is a game Edwin and John play, dueling Shakespeare.

“ ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings,’ ” John says. And before Edwin can riposte, “ ‘I deny you, stars.’ ”

Asia closes her eyes and she can see again black words on a yellowed page. Once when she was very young, she stood in the branches of the cherry tree with Edwin below her and what she said was: “ ‘Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night.’ ”