CHAPTER XII. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the
shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the
demoiselle. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself,
“he must never know. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. Sheppard. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never
once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she
suffered monthly. ’
‘What name would you like, then?’
Her shadowed features turned in his direction. Something in his tone pinched her heart. By rights I ought to have arrested her
days ago. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent,
which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the
gloom. If he took a fancy
to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little
cups without handles.
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