I'll wait here. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. His name is John. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be.
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