‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. “I’m five years older than you, and no end wiser, being a man. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. “Please forgive me, Lucy. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly.
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