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Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. Every one of those four stories would be accepted. " "Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. She was no longer there. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety.
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