" "I will. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. " "You daren't use it. I shall count it a privilege. She had finally managed to start breaking him down. ” “You talk strangely, Anna,” he said.
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