Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. And the age gets higher.
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