There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford.
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