She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. I stole away and walked to the railway station. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. ‘And take you this sword.
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