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He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. I’m so glad you’re not angry. ” She raked into the fire with the poker. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown.
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