For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. She shook her head. I’m so glad you’re not angry. . What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit.
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