’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. . It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. But most of all, I wanted to love. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. This is also the ragged edge of the world, too.
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