Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious.
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