He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. “Lift up one corner of the curtain for me. I do not love any one. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. “I have given her two days’ holiday,” Anna answered. "One last embrace. CHAPTER XXI.
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