” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. “I am sick of it. Go and prepare for our departure. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Then she reverted to the trousers. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes.
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