He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her beliefs. " "Do what you please with him," muttered Trenchard to Wild. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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