Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. “I will go,” he said. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories.
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