‘But I was not there. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. He rested on one elbow. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. “I don’t see,” gasped Ann Veronica, “why parents and children. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream.
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