’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. Yet there was nothing for her to do. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. I don’t want to know. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. I should be sorry if Shotbolt got the reward. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books.
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