He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. ‘And all to help me. “Why not?” he exclaimed. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. A minute pressure inwards showed him that it was not locked. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice.
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