“I thought you weren’t keeping up to the mark. . ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. “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. If you want me, you know where to find me. Only you good ones— shirk.
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