‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. She was still good at following orders. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. ‘Both of them so wise after the event. She had become neutral towards him and he had used the lesson to try to advance himself. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head.
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