’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. Though a few months younger than his companion Jack Sheppard, he was half a head taller, and much more robustly formed. But she had loved the man. Probably a sick man's whim. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Then the work is optional; they go on their own. Here he was almost stunned by the deafening clamour resounding on all sides. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors.
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