Yseult's frown deepens not in disagreement but thought, acknowledging the courtesy of his directness by not trying to hide the sense of gears turning, or the tension in her jaw that suggests she finds the whole process unpleasant. The dip of her chin into her own collar hides only from the wind and maybe the question of how angry she is or ought to be.

"I don't know that there will come a time when people like me are no longer required. Even in peace there will always be something that could be done. At some point, either I walk away or I continue until the work kills me. And if I walk away, it would make a great deal of sacrifice meaningless."