He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. ’ She closed her mind on the possibility of finding out, and went on, ‘But me, I have been in a war, and I have won. “What a hypocrite you are.
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