'Is that you, Daniel?' said the voice of Isaac Newton, not very loud. A little bubble of euphoria percolated into Daniel's bloodstream: to re-encounter anyone, after so long, during the Plague Years, and find them still alive, was a miracle. He looked uphill. The northern end of the house looked into, and was sheltered by, rising terrain. A small orchard of apple trees had been established on that side. Seated on a bench, with his back to Daniel and to the sun, was a man or woman with long colorless hair spilling down over a blanket that had been drawn round the shoulders like a shawl.