She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. “Perhaps by this time you will have heard of the step I have taken in leaving my home. “Have you no understanding of your own advanced history classes? You want to look like a brainwashed Nazi anti-Semite?” Lucy became angry, her nostrils flaring. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly. Pure romantic nonsense on her part.
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