127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged.
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