” She scoffed. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. Not Trodger. Me, I have a question for you first. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. Hang the wench! Roding was right. I’m a soldier, you see. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you.
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