The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. Charcoal. My reply to all of them has been the same. . His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table.
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