" "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, glancing significantly at Charcam, who was a confidant in his Jacobite schemes; "is it the messenger from Orchard-Windham, from Sir William?" "No, Sir Rowland. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. But you could have just as easily lost your womb in the Pestilence, and your life. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder.
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